


Courtship Rituals

by TulipsandTulle



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dubious Consent, Genderfluid!Nezumi, M/M, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Work, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, There's No Wall, everyone is 18+
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TulipsandTulle/pseuds/TulipsandTulle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezumi is a courtesan in the West Block, Shion is a student from Lost Town who conveniently loses his way and gets caught up in Eve's graces.  She offers him a view of a life he didn't know existed, and in the process of trying to fumble his way out, Shion becomes enamored with the sly courtesan and her quick wit.  Something keeps him coming back night after night, and if it's to be a secret, Shion is willing to keep it.</p><p>---</p><p>Updates on Sundays, usually early into Monday morning.  Content tags and warnings to be added as they apply.</p><p>Recently updated the rating to Explicit for the sexual content and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meandering Streets

Shion turned a corner, walking swiftly with his jacket open and his soft white hair blowing into his eyes.  Where had Karan said they were holding the party for Safu’s grandmother?  His ID bracelet wouldn’t be any help if he couldn’t name the restaurant, anyway. The streets seemed to get thinner and thinner, he must have turned the wrong corner in his haste to make it on time after his night classes.  He would ask someone in one of the nearby shops for directions to the restaurant in question.

He passed dark storefronts and dusky alleyways before coming to a well-lit café, the curtains drawn in favor of privacy.  He pulled open one of the mahogany double doors to the tinkling of a bell and was shocked to find a short, stocky woman with a high chignon atop her head bustling toward him.

“Hello, darling, what is it you’re looking for?”  She took his arm, looking him up and down surreptitiously.  He opened his mouth, intending to quickly ask directions, but she talked right over him.  “You’ve never visited our fine establishment, have you?  I’m sure one of my angels can help you, come sit.”  She led him to a plush velvet chaise, all but pushing him down upon it before hustling away through another set of double doors.  Shion, defeated, assessed his surroundings.

The walls were papered in black and gold vertical stripes, the paper peeling away in spots to reveal red walls.  The hardwood floors were scuffed with what looked like centuries of feet; it looked as if it hadn’t been buffed since it was laid down.  There were alcoves in each corner, dark and lit by singular pillar candles, and a dingy bar at the back.  As Shion was leaning down to pick up a discarded ashtray, the woman from before came back with a motley crew in tow.  Shion balked.

Each of the people following her sauntered forward and lined up before him.  There was a tall, burly man with a toothpick between his teeth who smirked and blew a kiss.  The woman to his left was short and chubby, wearing a bright orange bubble skirt and giant hoop earrings.  A man lounged against the bar, his side facing Shion, while he stole a glance at the liquor behind the bar, uninterested.  Lastly, a waiflike woman posed with her arms above her head, pretending to stretch but causing the bottom of her crop top to rise and barely cover her nipples.  Shion once again opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a nervous noise of protest.

The stocky woman came up to Shion, wrapping an arm conspiratorially around his shoulders.  “Aren’t they lovely?  My darlings are the best here in the West Block, you’ll find no better!  See anything you like, honey?”  Shion stuttered, attempting to apologize and then make his leave, but at that moment another woman came through the double doors.

“Ah, Eve has finally decided to grace us with her presence.”  The woman sighed, shaking her head in exasperation.  “She’s lucky she gets a roof over her head, this one.”

Eve’s sharp silver eyes caught Shion’s ruby gaze and smirked.  Her lips were painted a muted red, her long dark hair adorned with a single white lily.  Her gown traced her curves gently, draping over her hips in pale blue folds.  Her strong jaw and piercing gaze kept Shion glued to the chaise.  The woman seemed to sense his rapture, for she beckoned Eve forward.

“Care to show this gentleman our best hospitality, Eve?”  she placed Shion’s hand in Eve’s, and Eve’s strong grip all but pulled Shion up and dragged him back to her rooms, through the intense scrutiny of the others in the room.  Her confident bearing left Shion hurrying to catch up as she pulled open a door, pushed Shion inside not unkindly, and locked the door behind them. 

“For privacy’s sake, my prince.”  She smiled, leading him to a bed sumptuously dressed in a plush duvet.  She leaned into him, her lips close to his before pulling back.  “You’re trembling…”  She held a hand up to his face, leading down to the pulse in his neck.  At this, he could feel his heart clench.  She must have felt it.

Her smile turned from seductive to gentle as she brushed her cheek against his.  “There’s no need to fear, my liege… I’m here to pamper you, remember?  Why don’t you take a moment while I freshen up a bit?  It’ll take me barely any time.”

Shion swallowed the blockage in his throat, nodding vigorously.  Eve gave a laugh at that.  She crossed the room and sat at a vanity lit with soft yellow bulbs.  “I hope you don’t mind me leaving your company, then.”  She opened a glass jar of cream, pulling down the shoulders of her gown to rub it into her shoulders.  Shion couldn’t keep his eyes off of the skin revealed to him as she unpinned her gown, sliding it off and revealing a silk slip.  He didn’t hear her as she called to him.

“My prince?”  She turned then, cocking her head to the side with an eyebrow lifted. 

Shion started and blushed.  “Y-yes?”

She laughed again, that gentle sound.  “He has a voice after all.”  She patted the stool beside her, offering him a place to sit closer.  He stood and crossed the room on coltish legs, ready to bolt should she come any nearer.  “What should I call you?”

He toyed with the hem of his coat, to which she stood and took it from around his shoulders. “Sh-Shion.  My name is Shion.”

“Shion.  Like the flower?”

“My mother always liked trees and wildflowers.”  Shion watched her walk over to her stool, smelling the vanilla and jasmine of her body cream.  She handed Shion the glass jar to hold while she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.  After assuring it was pulled high enough, she took it back with a thankful nod of her head and applied it to her arms liberally, rubbing gently so it soaked into her skin. 

“So, Shion, what is it you were thinking when you came into our quaint little establishment?”  She looked into the mirror at him with her unwavering gaze. Shion watched as she took up a gauzy shawl to place around her shoulders. “Surely you weren’t planning on sitting here, watching me prepare for other guests.” She stood, leaned down to his cheek and pressed her lips to his skin. 

Shion gasped and felt himself turn pink.  She traced his lips with a finger, pouting.  “Unless you were looking for someone else… I can have Mistress Coleridge bring everyone back into the foyer for your choosing.”  She looked deep into his eyes and he had the feeling she was attempting to read his thoughts.  “I was sure I caught your eye, but I could be mistaken.”

Eve’s soft fringe framed her cheeks in a way that made Shion reach out to tuck it behind her ear. His fingers slid through the silky strands with no resistance.  He found his eyes meeting hers and he was loath to turn away.  Her gaze turned warm, kissing Shion’s palm as it passed. 

“You’re so anxious, my prince…” Eve’s lashes fluttered against Shion’s wrist, and a look of surprise flashed across her features. 

“You’ve never been with a woman, have you?”  Eve’s eyes narrowed critically. “You’re well-dressed, your features are nothing to sneeze at… You could have your pick of the ladies of the great No.6.  Why have you come here?”

Shion finally gained the courage to speak up. “Actually… I thought this was a café, I—“

Her demeanor changed in a flash of lightning.  Eve’s eyes sparkled and then she broke out into loud laughter.  Shion, to his chagrin, turned beet red.  “So his Majesty was dragged to my bedchambers, without a basic knowledge of what lay in store, and subsequently wooed into mortification by my admittedly close attentions.  Meanwhile, he chose to stay silent, all the while waiting for a waitress to flounce in with a carafe and a menu?”

“I was on my way to a party for a friend’s grandmother, I got lost on the way…” Shion looked down at his fidgeting hands while Eve ceased her giggles, hoping for all of the money in his pocket that she would kindly show him out with little ceremony.  To his surprise, she put her hands over his. 

“At least give me the benefit of your gaze, your Majesty.”  Shion looked up to find an indulgent smile on her lips.  She tugged his arms and urged him to stand; her shawl dragged over the plush carpet.  “I can easily put you on the correct path.  However, getting you out of my chambers without Mistress’s hands finding your purse will be most challenging...”

Shion realized then that Eve’s time wasn’t cheap, and taking her time for such trivial means was cruel.  She was doubtless expecting many customers; her figure, her deportment, her wit and her beauty could dazzle any man.  But what Shion appreciated most was her fire, her passion.  Even spending less than an hour in her presence left Shion confused and breathless.  She pulled him hither and thither, as if following the direction of the wind, with great strength and purpose.  Her silver eyes pierced his very being; the light in her eyes was like looking into liquid mercury as it shifted and reflected light. 

“Aha!”  She took ahold of Shion’s cardigan and gave him an apologetic look.  “I apologize, but you’ll be arriving to this soiree rather disheveled in order for my plan to work.  Unless you can spare twenty gold pieces, my liege?”  Shion shook his head, mortified that he had left the house with only his ID bracelet and the card for Safu’s grandmother in his pocket.  At that, she plucked and pulled at the knit fabric while rucking his shirt up underneath.  An involuntary shiver traveled down his spine when her fingers brushed his hips on their quest to undo his belt.  He allowed her ministrations, and barely made a sound when she ruffled his hair.  However, when she pulled his face in by his chin to pepper kisses along his neck and jaw, leaving behind faint red lipstick smudges, a pitiful whimper began in his throat.

“Almost done…” Eve planted one last kiss on his lips.  She pulled his bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth to give him those kiss-swollen lips Mistress Coleridge would be expecting.  She smirked slightly when his eyes screwed shut and he tried to respond in kind, but Eve pulled away before he could pull her closer.  She tsked.  “Ah-ah-ah… You should be getting to that party soon, shouldn’t you, your Majesty?”  His answering baleful look said everything he couldn’t vocalize, but she couldn’t allow him too close.  Not here.  Not now.

Before her sense of pity caused her any more grief over this man-child, she took his hand and led him out to the lobby, where Mistress Coleridge caught up with them.  She looked none too pleased with Shion’s early departure; surely even a virgin couldn’t want to be in and out so quickly.  Eve took the Mistress’s shoulder and gave her a sheepish look, which Shion copied. 

“Mistress, I’m afraid our customer has had quite the hard time getting himself…” Eve murmured under her breath, gesturing vaguely to his genitals.  She patted Shion’s shoulder as one would a child who was found trying on his granny’s best jewels.  When the Mistress opened her mouth to protest Shion’s leaving, Eve placed a hand on her own breast and gave her a beseeching look. 

“Please, Mistress, if I couldn’t please our honored guest, even after exploring every avenue to the best of my ability…”  Eve gave a sidelong glance to Shion.  “He must be so ashamed, at least let him keep his pride.”

The Mistress capitulated with a wave of her hand and Shion trudged to the door.  He left without so much as a backward glance, in keeping with his character. 

He got no further than a half a block away before he realized he hadn’t gotten the directions he entered the brothel to acquire.  He stopped in his tracks and tipped his head back to look at the stars.  Maybe they would show him the way. 

A quiet chittering sounded from his feet, and he jumped a bit after seeing a pair of pink eyes glinting up at him.  A rat scurried around and around his feet while chirping incessantly.  Shion bent down to look the creature in the eyes.  “What is it?”

Shion noticed something in the mouse’s mouth which then dropped to the ground: a rolled-up slip of paper.  He picked it up, his curiosity piqued, and unrolled it to find neat script.

_My Prince,_

_Follow this road to_

_the first light post,_

_then turn left._

_You’ll arrive at your_

_destination on the right_

_amidst window boxes_

_of flowers. The trellis is_

_too far._

_Eve_

 

 

               

               

               

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Crossing Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shion can't seem to forget about Eve, and he ponders how to reciprocate her kindness.

The sounds of the West Block were something he could always count on to keep him distracted: the chatter of children making their way through the crowded marketplace with stolen loaves of stale bread underneath their arms; strays panting in the mid-noon sun; the occasional boom of gunfire. The angry calls for runaway thieves, and the sounds of their bare feet amid the dirt and dust. The smells simultaneously drew him in and repulsed him: spoiled cooking oil, old tea leaves, the rare whiff of booze, and the arresting aroma of roasted nuts. Nezumi followed this last scent and weaved through market-goers in their somber browns and muted maroons. Upon reaching the stall, Nezumi zeroed in on his target.

The crumpled paper bag of nuts of seemed to exude some magnetic power. Nezumi’s stomach was growling incessantly, and the nearest stall was overseen by a grumpy, balding man who wore a faded newsboy cap and a holey blazer. He looked Nezumi up and down and sized him up. It was as if his eyes could see into his pockets, counting the coins he held in his purse. Nezumi would normally pass right by such a man, but food in the West Block was scarce this week; due to increased rioting by the working classes, the garbage disposal systems in place in No.6 were at a standstill, and therefore food was having a hard time reaching the West Block. Nezumi had half a mind to wander into No.6, steal from some restaurant dumpsters and make his way back to his tiny bunker. However, Nezumi’s pride bristled at setting foot over the invisible border between No.6 and the West Block. It wasn’t as if there was a physical barrier to his entrance, but if he could get by in the West Block, he would.

Furthermore, he had a full night of work ahead of him, which would help fill his pockets. After his run-in with that stammering, awkward boy with the peculiar hair, Nezumi could barely afford to keep himself fed. He was drinking coffee made with thrice-used grounds, and the lack of caffeine coupled with the little food in his belly made him irritable. Maybe he could purchase some produce on the way home in the morning.

With little but a backward glance, he passed the stall on his way down the dirt road. Damn that spoiled Prince.

\---

Shion felt the pads of soft fingers trace his collarbone, winding around his neck and cupping the back of his head. Slender hands combed upward through his hair, and he gasped involuntarily. The feel of a body astride his hips, a pair of thighs bracketing his own, made his hands clench in the sheets. The smell of jasmine and vanilla invaded his senses; he swore he could taste the floral sweetness on his tongue with every shaky inhale. Dark hair fell around his head like a curtain, and he saw the flash of silver eyes before a pair of velvet lips caught his own. Just as he went to take hold of her smooth back, pull her into him in desperation—

She was gone.

He sat up in bed, pointedly avoiding the bump under his comforter. Shion disengaged his fists from the warm blankets and attempted to slow his breathing. His cheeks were red, no doubt, and the unwelcome visitor between his legs was far too chipper for his taste. With a resigned sigh he removed himself from the comfort of his bed and held a towel over his hips to make the slow walk to the shower.

Ever since that fateful night in the West Block, Shion had been drawn back to memories of Eve. She was electric—her eyes captured the zing of lightning reflected in still water. She was whip-smart, and her sly wit captivated Shion. He remembered the sugary floral scent of her body cream and the pale blue folds of her dress, which gave her the illusion of floating across the floor. He tried to tell himself it was a chance meeting, and that she would never be interested in someone like him outside of her profession. He had wasted her time, likely keeping her from well-paying customers. He hoped she was doing alright.

Rather than badger him for money or exact some other kind of payment from him, Eve helped him on his way. Shion still felt terrible about his error and the resulting confusion, but he didn’t know how to make it up to her, or if he even should. He was also embarrassed to make his way to the establishment after his hasty exit. However, Shion knew he had to find a way to compensate her, one way or the other.

Shion found himself spacing out in his classes. The more he tried to focus on his studies, the more Eve and her cunning smirk invaded his thoughts. After missing his name being called by a lab partner and almost spilling acid on their shoes, Shion decided to skip out on his last class. With any luck one of his fellow students would respond to his frantic e-mail requesting notes for the day. With nothing better to do, Shion decided to make his way to the waterfront. There, he could gather his thoughts and hopefully get started on some tree classifications for his next exam.

Shion arrived at the small lake, and upon hearing the gentle lapping of the waves, his stress melted away. He settled by the trunk of a nearby tree, using his backpack as a lumpy and altogether uncomfortable pillow. _A little shut-eye can’t hurt, just for a bit,_ Shion thought. _I can take a moment, then get to work._

However, before Shion could close his eyes, he heard a high-pitched _cheep!_ from the grass beside him.

“Uwah!” he exclaimed, scrambling away from the source of the noise. His eyes settled on a dark gray mouse, whose whiskers twitched as it cleaned its face. It seemed to be unaffected by his outburst and merely stared up at him.

“Oh, wait, you’re Eve’s mouse!” Shion declared. He reached out a hand to the creature to convey recognition. The mouse chirped once more and scurried up his arm. Shion wasn’t used to the tiny claws or the brush of whiskers against his skin, and he laughed at the sensation.

“You must not be a pet if you can travel so far from Eve...” Shion slowly moved to brush his fingers over the mouse’s head, and the mouse didn’t seem to mind, so he scritched right between its ears. “Maybe she feeds you, and in return you run messages for her. What a smart mouse you are!”

The mouse let out a proud squeak, scurrying across Shion’s shoulders, back and forth. “How should I repay Eve, Mouse-san? Should I give her the money I owe? Buy her something fancy? Bake her some of my mom’s cherry cake?”

At the last suggestion, the mouse chirped excitedly, which made Shion laugh. He got the distinct impression that the mouse was in it more for the possibility of the crumbs, but Shion thought it wasn’t such a terrible idea. Karan’s bakery did well in Lost Town, and she was particularly proud of her cherry cakes. Along with a few loaves of freshly baked bread, maybe some homemade sticky buns, he thought it would suffice. He didn’t claim to know Eve very well at all, but he didn’t think she seemed like the type to accept money outside of anything strictly business, and who could turn down baked goods?

Shion stood and returned the mouse to the grass beside the tree. “Thank you for your help, Mouse-san!” he called out as he began the trek home to Lost Town.

\---

Shion carried a basket laden with baked goods on his arm and re-traced his steps from the restaurant Eve guided him to the night before. He passed the windowboxes full of flowers, took a right at the streetlamp, and came to the building on the right. As it was, Shion took his time ambling up to the building, choosing to admire the slick, mahogany doors and the velvet curtains in the windows rather than make his way inside. He remembered with discomfort the Mistress’s forthright nature, the way she treated him like a king and not the college-aged virgin he really was. There was no avoiding her, though, so Shion braced himself and pushed through the double doors.

The Doxy was bathed in low light, just as it was the night before. Shion looked around for the portly matron but was only met with one of the courtesan’s curious glances before he went back to his brandy. His wavy hair was braided loosely, and his shirt reminded Shion of something a swashbuckler in a fairy tale would wear, with its laces done up loosely over his hairy chest. His ears were pierced all along the edges with tiny golden rings; they glinted dimly in the atmospheric candlelight. His skin was a warm hazelnut color, dotted with freckles. Shion barely noticed him trying to meet his eyes, he was focused on the bit of shoulder revealed with his sagging shirt.

“Hello, boy. Don’t I know you?” the courtesan asked. He dropped his glass on the counter in order to saunter over to Shion. “You were here last night.”

The courtesan’s nose wrinkled. “And you went with Eve.” He rolled his eyes and instead peered into Shion’s basket. His bejeweled fingers sifted through the contents and pulled out a dinner roll. Before Shion could protest, the courtesan lifted a finger to his lips and tutted.

“Payment for my services. Someone has to tell Eve you’re here, and I’m sure you don’t want to be subjected to the Mistress’s prodding after your, um...” he trailed off and gestured vaguely to Shion’s genitals. “performance issues, last night.” Shion turned beet red when the courtesan’s hand skirted his hip in an altogether too familiar gesture, all while leaning down to Shion’s ear.

“And if you tire of Eve, boy, my name is Grant. I’d be more than willing to keep you company.”

Grant strolled past, exiting through the door to the private rooms.

 _Well, that was an experience,_ Shion mused. _I’m glad I packed the extra rolls._

  


Shortly, the doors opened to reveal Eve, smirking and lounging against the doorframe. “Ah, your Majesty. I see you’ve returned to try and pick up your lost pride.” Eve practically stalked toward him, her kohl-rimmed eyes flashing with slight surprise.

“Oh, and you brought gifts, how kind.”

Her hand landed delicately on Shion’s shoulder, barely heavier than a breath. Shion began to stammer.

“I, um, really appreciated your help last night, and I—I just wanted to repay you. For your kindness.” Shion could feel his cheeks coloring while Eve looked at him with those piercing steel eyes.

Eve chuckled, tucking the basket in the corner of her arm and leading Shion to the back hall. “Come, then. This kind of feast deserves company.”

Shion attempted to protest—this was exactly the scenario he was apologizing for! “W-wait, Eve!”

She turned, an eyebrow arched quizzically. “What is it?” The tilt of her head revealed the pale column of her neck.

“I really should be going, I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to drop those off, really! You must be waiting on more of your, um… customers.” Shion balked at that last choice of words—it sounded so dirty and unrefined, so common. Eve, however, simply waved her hand and continued leading him to her chambers.

“I haven’t got anyone booked tonight, it’s a Monday. Too many men at home having dinner with their wives and children. And unless another straggler like you wandered in and simply lusted after me, I’d be doing little but reading.” Eve drew closer and took Shion’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Unless you grow tired of my company?” she murmured.

Shion stood still for a moment—he couldn’t think past Eve’s lips so close to his, her touch warm. “N-no, not at all!”

She smiled an indulgent smile. “Then follow me, my liege.”


	3. Storefronts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shion and Eve spend an evening with a basket of fresh-baked bread and some Shakespeare.

Entering Eve’s chambers this time, Shion had the chance to look around the room and take in his surroundings. The only light in the cozy space came from several old-fashioned oil lamps; the silver damask curtains were faded and care-worn in patches, but covered the high, short windows well enough. The hardwood floors were worn to satin by years of feet. The bed was made simply with crisp sheets and an emerald green duvet; Shion remembered the surprising softness of the mattress. While Eve set about procuring glasses for drink, Shion examined her dimly-lit vanity: there were pots of what looked to be expensive creams, vials of oil, and compacts filled with powder. He dipped his finger into a familiar pot, left open—when held to his nose, it emitted the scent of jasmine and vanilla. Eve’s scent.

“I see you’ve found my body cream. If you’re that fond of it, you’ll absolutely adore the taste,” Eve murmured against his ear. Shion jumped and looked to her in the mirror guiltily. How had she gotten that close without him noticing? Wait, she wanted him to--!!

“Are you talking about sex?”

Eve laughed. “Ever the astute boy, aren’t you.” She guided Shion’s finger to his mouth. “Really though, do taste.”

Shion acquiesced, and was surprised to find the taste floral, yet pleasant. It wasn’t anything like eating his mama’s sweets, of course, but underneath the jasmine and hint of vanilla lay a nutty base. “It’s lovely.”

Eve smirked. “It makes a fantastic aphrodisiac. Very helpful in my line of work.” She began looking through the contents of the basket, choosing a medium-sized loaf of crusty bread and using a pocket knife to cut thick, hearty slices. “So, what do you do, Shion? Are you a baker? If this is your work, I have to say I’m thoroughly impressed.”

Shion shook his head and accepted a slice. “There’s some butter packed at the bottom, if you’d like. And no, my mother made these. She owns a bakery in Lost Town. I’m a student, actually. I study ecology.”

With the very same knife, Eve spread a healthy dab of butter over her slice, then leaned over Shion to do the same for him. Her movements were purposeful—every flick of her wrist was tight and controlled, but exuded a kind of practiced grace. Normally, Shion was wary of sharp objects because he tended to be clumsy, but he was perfectly comfortable with Eve holding a knife so close to him. He was surprised at this thought. He barely knew Eve, and yet he felt comfortable in her presence.

Eve ripped a chunk off and popped it in her mouth. “I see. So you’re not the type to enjoy classical literature, then.” she sighed dramatically and fanned her forehead. “What a shame! It’s so rare that I find anyone willing to help me practice my lines...”

“Wait, you’re an actress?” Shion perked up and turned to face Eve more directly. “What have you played in? I’m sure you’re the queen of the stage.”

Eve gave a short laugh and continued digging into her bread. “Something like that, my prince. I’ve been in mostly Shakespearean tragedies, _Othello_ and _Hamlet_ and such.”

“Well, what’s your current role?”

“Lady Macbeth.”

“Oh,” Shion smiles. “What’s she like?”

“Ruthless, dedicated, and altogether full of ambition. She’s almost more important than the titular Macbeth.” Eve, done with her bread, stood and began reciting:

“Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to look so green and pale at what it did so freely?”

Eve slapped away an invisible hand. “From this time such I account thy love. Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valor as thou art in desire?”

She grew angrier, her teeth bared. “Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’ like the poor cat i' the adage?”

She seemed to wait for an invisible partner to finish their answering remark. “What beast was't then that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both.” Eve threw out a hand, as if in accusation to another party. “They have made themselves, and that their fitness now does unmake you!”

Eve sat back down on the duvet, and when she looked to Shion, she began to laugh. His mouth was open wide and his eyes wouldn’t leave the spot she had vacated.

“If that impresses you, I can only imagine what it would be like if you saw a real Shakespearean company perform. You’d probably lose your mind!”

Shion put a hand over Eve’s; he didn’t notice the subtle way she bristled at his familiar touch. “Eve, that was amazing. Let me help you rehearse!”

Eve plucked Shion’s hand from her own, her mouth turning down into a frown. “You haven’t even read the play.”

“But I could read it! I’ve never been so moved by a performance before.” His excitement was nearly infectious—Eve had to keep from smiling at his earnest request. However, his face soon fell.

“But, No.6 doesn’t exactly promote its citizens reading the classics...”

Eve sighed. How was this boy getting under her skin?

“Fine.”

Shion looked up. “...What?”

Eve stood and made her way to the rickety bookcase on the back wall. She grasped a well-worn tome, bound in faded cloth. Without looking behind her, she tossed it onto the bed by Shion’s hand.

“You’d better be good to that book, or I’ll charge you for all of the time we’ve spent plus pain and suffering, got it?”

Shion’s eyes lit up. “Of course, Eve!”

She drifted back to Shion to begin teaching him the way to open an old book, first with the middle pages, then slowly going outward…

\---

The rough washcloth dragged off the carefully-applied makeup. It smeared and, without fail, made its way into Nezumi’s eyes. _Oh well,_ he thought, _at least this rag’s clean._

He couldn’t believe that he spent another night with that same strange, white-haired boy from No.6. He didn’t expect to see him again, in truth. He wandered his way into a _whorehouse,_ of all places, and he didn’t even realize where he was until Nezumi started going in for the proverbial kill.

Nezumi slid the gauzy dress over his shoulders and down his thighs. What kind of fool leaves a brothel under the guise of having a… _less than cooperative_ set of genitals, and then comes back with a basket of baked goods, just to say thank-you?

Nezumi pulled a danish from the basket sitting on his vanity and chomped into it ungracefully.

 _And he got away with my copy of_ Macbeth, _too…_

Nezumi looked himself over in the mirror. Half dressed in his satin slip, his hair done up with silver pins, he could barely recognize himself. The faint ghost of red lipstick left its mark over his mouth, and what was left of his kohl eyeliner softened his sharp eyes.

 _No wonder he practically robbed you,_ he thought. _You played your part perfectly,_ _ **Eve.**_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, I'm planning on giving some background on Eve's relationship with the courtesans of The Doxy, as well as Mistress Coleridge, so Shion won't really be around. Rest assured, I'll get back to our two favorites soon!


	4. Alleyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nezumi remembers the time he met the courtesans of The Doxy, as well as their benefactor Mistress Coleridge.

The basket of rolls and sweets could last Nezumi a week. He would spread the hearty bread out and use the dry, stale parts to dunk in soup. The butter would allow him to sear bits of meat for his stews. With this, he could afford to save some of the coin he made nightly for a few books here, a new wooden spoon there, a bag of salt for curing meat. He looked at the picture-perfect basket and imagined the boy who delivered it to him, grinning wide and offering it to him refilled. His stomach growled at the thought.

 _If only it were that easy,_ Nezumi thought. He’d never been given something for free in his life. He’d always been made to borrow, then cheat, then steal so he could keep himself alive. Around age seven, he kept away from the hordes of children who would create diversions with their raucous laughter and assign a few kids in the shadows to steal from passing pockets. He had been better off alone, and he knew exactly how to sneak up beside someone, make off with their purse and disappear into the shadows.

At age ten or eleven, he became a regular con-artist, taking near-spoiled produce from underneath stall owners’ noses while they chatted pleasantly. He made sure to take only things that would be useless soon—the waxy ends of cheeses, less-than-fresh meats, and milk that had already clotted. He became the king of creating meals from odds and ends, scrounging for whatever he needed.

One night when he was seventeen, he was in the middle of a circle of thugs, being tossed around and summarily hit. He stole from the wrong stall—he was getting lazy, he thought the old woman wouldn’t notice a bent spoon. Well, she called her sons to track Nezumi down and punish him for his error.

He was lying on the ground, spitting curses through his bloodied mouth, when Mistress Coleridge passed the alleyway with her charges in tow. He saw Billy first. He was cracking his knuckles in preparation, murmuring to the Mistress before pushing his way into the circle and hefting a sore Nezumi into his arms. He tried his best to protest, to kick and scratch, but Billy was larger and had full use of his faculties.

Next came Kitty, the stout woman with the pale brown beauty marks on her chest and neck. Back then, her auburn hair had been cropped short, and she barely ever let a man touch her. Instead, she used her femininity to lull unsuspecting assholes in, only to get retribution for others. Kitty was sweet like that. Now, she took customers, but strictly for punishment.

She and Gill, the thin woman with the angular features and thin, blonde hair, helped lead Nezumi away from the scene while Grant jumped in to help Billy fend off the enraged brothers. Nezumi could feel his chest throb; his ribs were definitely broken in a few spots, and he had gotten away with a few shallow knife slashes.

Mistress Coleridge ambled alongside them, not even stopping to look behind her.

“You’re lucky none of those boys had guns,” she said through heavy breaths. The Mistress was keen on getting involved in others’ business, but she had a hard time keeping up.

At the time, Nezumi had kept silent. He could only imagine what she wanted in return for stopping those goons, and he wasn’t willing to be indebted to anyone for long.

At the entrance to The Doxy, Mistress Coleridge bolted the double doors out front and drew the curtains.

“The boys know how to get in through the back alleys,” she reassured him, though he had to admit he wasn’t too worried about them. Both were well-built and solid, and while Billy was definitively the muscle of the group, Grant was nothing to sneeze at.

“Gill, dear, could you soak some bandages for me? I’ll get a room set up for this one.” Mistress Coleridge bustled off through the door in the back, and Kitty plopped herself down next to Nezumi to get a good look at his injuries. She wasn’t expecting him to immediately stand and start limping his way to the front doors.

“Hey!” she called, jogging up to him and flailing her arms uselessly. “Gilly, a little help?!”

The blonde was carefully soaking some cloth bandages in alcohol. She didn’t even look up.

“If he wants to go, let him go,” she sighed. Every word came out of her mouth like a breeze.

Kitty put her hands on her hips and stomped her heeled boots. “He’s hurt. Plus, we can’t let the boys do all that fisticuffin’ for nothing!”

While the girls were disagreeing, Nezumi felt his vision swim with pain; his breathing was being impeded by the damage to his ribs, and the cut near his hairline was steadily streaming blood as only a head wound could. At this rate, he would never make it home, let alone unmolested.

He felt Mistress Coleridge’s hands under his head before he hit the floor.

\---

Grant was the first person he saw when he woke up. He was wrapping his ribs, attempting to be gentle yet efficient, and his prodding had broken Nezumi from sleep. His groans drew the man with the braid’s attention.

“You got an extra hand?”

Nezumi grunted, holding the end of the bandage to his skin so that Grant could wrap it with enough pressure.

“Not a talker, I take it.”

“Hurts to breathe. Hope you understand.” Nezumi gasped through gritted teeth.

Grant chuckled. “Worksfor me.”

Nezumi took the opportunity to assess Grant. The first thing he noticed was a fresh, deep red stroke across his collarbone, as if someone had gone for his neck and nearly missed. He either had to be fantastic at evading lethal attacks or his opponent was clumsy. Nezumi knew it was the former.

His skin was a dusky brown, and his smooth chocolate-colored hair was pulled back into a loose, wavy braid. He had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and, underneath the collar of his loose-fitting shirt, what looked to be an old bullet wound.

 _We all have scars, here,_ he thought. _But that one looks like it has a story._

Grant caught him looking and his eyes narrowed. “See something you like, pretty boy?”

Nezumi grimaced—he was pulling tighter on the bandages. He bared his teeth.

“In your dreams.”

Grant huffed and gave the bandage one last tug, making sure to secure it in place just a _bit_ too tight.

\---

The next time he woke up, he smelled something delicious. He opened his eyes to a bowl full of meat sauce with bread. A pair of unknown hands shoved it into his hands.

“Eat up, okay?” It was Kitty, grinning with all of her teeth. A few were gold-capped.

Nezumi’s ribs felt marginally better despite the tight bandages, so he decided to make conversation with the woman who brought the food. Never bite the hand that feeds. Well, unless that hand happens to slap you. Nezumi didn’t think Kitty was the type.

“This smells good,” he rasped. Damn, he needed some water.

Kitty produced a steaming ceramic cup, handing it to him and preening. “It’s my special recipe. Just don’t ask what the meat is, because I don’t think even I could tell you.”

Nezumi eyed the cup. “And this?”

She laughed. “Mint tea. I may have mixed in a bit of bourbon, but you won’t tell on me,” Kitty winked.

“Will ya?”

Nezumi shook his head and sipped the beverage, digging into the bowl of sauce. In the meantime, Kitty looked over his bandages. She changed the ones around his ribs, frowning.

“… Grant was in here, wasn’t he?”

Nezumi swallowed what he was chewing. “Long braid, bullet scar?”

Kitty nodded and sighed. “That man needs to get over himself. Just because his room happened to be the one with the cleanest sheets...”

The bourbon was starting to hit him, and he could feel his lips loosening.

“So where am I? You’ll forgive me if I was in too much pain to put us on a mental map.”

Kitty smiled gently, still wrapping Nezumi up in clean bandages. She went to swap the one on his head carefully. “You’re at The Doxy. It’s a whorehouse.”

“Kitty, honey, it’s a _brothel,_ not a whorehouse.”

Kitty whipped around guiltily. “O-of course not, Mistress C! Sorry.”

The Mistress tutted. “Go on out to the sitting room, we’ll be getting customers soon and we could use you. I’ll handle the boy.” The Mistress’s hands were gentle, soft—they smelled of some sugary-sweet skin oil. He could see the spots where she dabbed it on her neck.

“So, care to give me your name?”

“It’s Nezumi.”

“Nezumi?” She cocked her head to the side. “Like the critter?”

“Mm-hmm. The vermin.”

Mistress Coleridge shook her head, taking Nezumi’s chin in her hand. “They’re smart creatures, always the first to run at the sign of danger. And sharp teeth for when it gets tough.” She continued dressing his wounds. “But I’m sure you know that. Surely it’s much easier when someone expects vermin.”

Nezumi hummed in agreement. He finished his tea and set the cleaned bowl on the bedside table.

“So, what do you want from me?” he asked, with no preamble. Surely these people wanted him to repay them for their kindness. The two men had even put themselves in danger to make sure Nezumi got away safely, he didn’t believe that they wouldn’t ask for something in return.

The Mistress laughed heartily. “Well, there’s not much you can do right this second, boy. You look an absolute wreck, and I doubt whatever talents got you in that mess are available to you right now.”

She pulled a handkerchief from her bustier, dabbing at the dried blood on his face. He bristled noticeably at the touch.

“Give it a bit. I’m sure we’ll find something you can do for us.”

With that, the Mistress hustled out of the room with a grin and closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I've decided that I'm going to publish once a weekend so that you all won't be waiting around for the next chapter! I hope this makes more sense, and I might up it to twice a week if I'm writing more or less regularly. Look forward to the next chapter, you'll see Shion again!


	5. Basement Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nezumi goes about his day and night as both himself and Eve, and Shion makes his way back to The Doxy.
> 
> warnings this chapter for sexual violence and dubious sexual assault.

Nezumi woke in his comfortable basement apartment, among scores of open books and worn-in blankets. One of the mice was chittering in his ear and reminding him of the time. He had to be out and about for rehearsal before going home to grab something to eat and walking across town to the brothel.

He whipped his super-fiber cloth around his shoulders tightly to prepare for the bracing wind along the featureless, dusty landscape. He could feel the cold air seeping in from underneath the door.

On his way to the theatre, he munched on one of Shion’s mama’s pastries. Even a day old, the dough was flaky and the jam in the center was tart.

 _It’s been so long since I could afford things like this,_ Nezumi thought. _Every once and a while, a customer will bring me something to eat, but this is different. They always expect something in return._

_But not him._

Nezumi flew through rehearsal without a hitch—if anything, his co-stars were making it difficult. Macbeth was an absolute drama queen, and Banquo kept pilfering other peoples’ makeup. Lucky for Nezumi, he kept most of his at home. He had no desire to put on airs for these people.

With one last wave to the theatre manager, Nezumi trekked home to prepare for a night at The Doxy.

\---

Eve gasped, hiking her skirt up further in an attempt to keep it from the patron’s grubby hands. This dress was recently washed, and Nezumi didn’t have the convenience of throwing it in a washing machine or having someone else do it; all of his dresses were hand-washed personally, to assure that the embroidery and beading held up.

The aforementioned customer growled into Eve’s ear, something guttural and primal. “Fuck, Eve. So close.”

Eve rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see. She enjoyed making men like him fall apart, but the actual falling-apart was the messiest, and often the least satisfying. His head was buried in her neck, slobbering away. She petted his hair gently.

“Come then,” she whispered. “Take your pleasure in me.”

Shortly after, the balding man tied off the condom and threw it to the floor.

 _Tch,_ Nezumi thought. _He couldn’t even put it in the trash?_

Eve stood and wrapped her long robe around herself. She accepted a handful of coins from the man graciously and led him to the door.

“It was my pleasure, Mr. Rook,” she sealed the transaction with a kiss to his cheek. “Do come back, I’ll be waiting.”

Rook smiled, missing an eye tooth. “Of course, Eve. You’re the finest _lady_ in this town.”

_He thinks he’s being coy. He’s the one enjoying a cross-dressing whore once a week, so joke’s on him._

When the door closed, Nezumi slid the lock home and began the process of cleaning up for the next customer.

\---

Nezumi found Billy in the kitchen, shucking peas into a warped metal bowl. He daintily rolled up his sleeve and stole a leftover pod from the discard pile. The pile of pods yet to be processed was admittedly scarce.

“Oi, that’s for supper, you know,” Billy chided. He looked up to Eve from his place on a wooden stool. “Got the biter again?”

Nezumi’s hand went to his neck. He couldn’t feel the bruise yet, but the skin was hot. “Rook, yes. He was particularly rough tonight, and it’s going to be hell to cover up under the stage lights.”

As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

“Up, on the table.” Billy urged. He pushed the dinner preparations aside.

“Billy, I can handle this myself,” Nezumi growled. “I’m not some delicate flower—this is life, here. I know that just as well as you.” He turned to leave the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest.

“Worry about yourself, don’t waste your time on others when you’re in the same position.”

Billy scoffed and put a burly arm out in front of Nezumi, blocking his path. “Yes, Nezumi, but I’m not the one presenting myself as a woman every night and getting fucked nearly raw. I can afford to protect myself, but if you want to charm people into your bed, you can’t.”

“You don’t have to isolate yourself. Have we ever given you reason to doubt us?”

Nezumi let Billy corral him into his arms, albeit begrudgingly. He made it a point not to meet his eyes.

“Let me do this for you.”

 

Nezumi had to hold back a full-body tremor at Billy’s gentle prodding. He assessed every nail scrape, every bitemark, every bruise, until he was satisfied that there wasn’t significant physical damage. Nezumi stared up at the ceiling when he spread his legs, methodically searching for tears or blood. He always did his best to be as gentle and clinical as possible, but the touches always felt too close, too intimate.

When Billy pressed his legs closed, Nezumi sat up and ran a hand through his loose hair.

“Nothing a long bath and some menthol cream won’t soothe,” Billy reassured him. He washed his hands in the sink basin and went back to shucking his peas. “It’s not too painful, is it?”

Nezumi leaned over again, ignoring the pain beginning in his back. Being repeatedly rammed into a bed would do that. He grabbed a knife and sat to Billy’s left, taking the pea pods and cutting them into smaller, manageable strips. They couldn’t afford to waste anything edible, and this way, they were easier to spread out into the rest of the meal. With a bit of oil and the heat of a skillet, the pods became tender, if a bit stringy. Billy smiled and offered Nezumi a few raw peas.

“Take these. I know you’ll be snatching a few anyway.”

\---

As soon as the sun began to rise, Eve began to usher her last guest out. Farah tried to extend her time with every visit, and no matter how much Eve charged for the added time spent spooning, she paid it. Nezumi found her company pleasant enough, and she was easy to please, often asking for a simple massage or just to be kissed. She confided in Eve that she had a husband at home who was less than kind, and Nezumi could tell from the handprints ringing her arms that he had no qualms with letting others see the violence he inflicted. Farah was wrapping a scarf around her head and taking her purse when Eve placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Make sure to walk through the food vendors on your way back.”

_I don’t want him to smell me on you._

With a silent nod, Farah slipped a handful of coins into Eve’s palm and blew a kiss behind her.

Every night that she came back to visit Eve, Nezumi had to make sure that it wasn’t a ghost at the threshold.

 

With practiced ease, Nezumi removed Eve from his skin and packed away his dresses and jewelry. He couldn’t wear Eve outside of The Doxy—it was too dangerous to be a woman walking alone in the West Block. He could always forgo the extra work and ask one of the other courtesans to walk him home, but he would rather walk the streets alone. That way, he could enjoy the relative peace of the early morning and take in the sights and sounds of the West Block.

He stopped by the Mistress’s office in the back of the house and handed over her cut of the night’s earnings. She trusted her charges, and they didn’t give her a reason not to. They both knew that the situation was as close to ideal as it could be, and the benefits of working out of an established brothel far outweighed the loss of funds.

“Be careful out there, Nezumi,” she warned. She was busy plugging away at bills for the house, and she didn’t even count the coins on the desk.

Nezumi tucked his super-fiber cloak around himself with a flourish and smirked. “Aren’t I always?”

 

On his way home, Nezumi ran through his lines in his head. He wasn’t having trouble, per se, but some of the stage directions paired with the lines were having a hard time sticking.

 _Now would be a perfect time for that boy to finish with my copy and return it,_ his brain supplied. However, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Shion after Mr. Rook’s visit. He could cover up the marks, sure, but how long would it be before Shion noticed the way he sat gingerly on his side, or the way his hair went to one side to cover the bruises and bite-marks? He didn’t want his pity, and in his mind, he hoped the oblivious prince wouldn’t visit.

He would take the day to sleep, make something to eat, and do some reading before beginning the process of becoming Eve all over again.

\---

Shion was head-first in a textbook chapter about water tables and erosion. His eyes kept drooping, and he was having trouble keeping his chin off his chest.

 _Maybe I shouldn’t have spent so long with Eve that night ago,_ he thought. _My sleep patterns are all jumbled._

But he had a good time, didn’t he? Eve was great company, even though she spent the greater part of an hour berating Shion for his poor recitation and atrocious pronunciation.

“ _I haven’t heard Shakespeare spoken so dryly since Gil pulled out some of his sonnets looking for dirty ones. Try again, and this time actually_ feel _the words.”_

Shion smiled at the memory. Admittedly, the only classical literature he knew was from the books his mother read to him as a child, and those were painfully few and far between. He was much more likely to be read to from pamphlets about the Holy City. Sometimes, he helped his mother come up with descriptions for new offerings at the bakery, but that didn’t take any real literary merit into consideration.

 _Macbeth,_ though, that was real literature. And while Shion was having a hard time switching gears from his usual dry, scientific reading to Shakespeare’s wild, poetic prose, he was enjoying the challenge. From remembering the names of the characters to parsing together the meanings of phrases, Shion was thrilled by the words on the page.

He curled up in his bed with _Macbeth,_ putting his textbook aside for the afternoon. If he could get through the rest of the play tonight, he could visit Eve. He remembered her stern warning:

_You don’t come back here until you’ve read that through completely. Shakespeare deserves your full attention, and I can’t imagine the play is all that’s on your mind when you’re here._

She had winked and shut the book on his lap. Then she led him to the door, kissing his hand and making his cheeks turn pink. Shion left The Doxy through the front door, nodding awkwardly to Grant before closing it behind him.

And now he was on his way back, following the smell of roasting nuts through the vendors, past the imposing facades of abandoned buildings. The evening breeze was cool and played with his soft, white hair. He imagined it leading him to The Doxy, through the front room with its low candlelight and striped wallpaper, down the dark hall, and to Eve’s room, where she would rise from her vanity and greet him with her trademark sly grin.

 


	6. Cozy Bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shion waits for Eve at the Doxy and meets some new faces, meanwhile Eve takes care of some business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, this chapter jumps right in with some sexual content!

Nezumi did the dirty work of prepping himself before customers, should they require taking the dominant role. It made his work easier, and the idea of having Eve on the bed, opening herself and thinking of her customers drove them mad—a fantasy she made sure to plant in their heads, should things go against her favor. He always did this before the club opened, and before he did his hair and makeup; it wouldn’t do for Eve to make her entrance to the foyer looking disheveled and pre-fucked.  

As it was, he laid a towel down on the bed to keep his mess off the sheets.  He sometimes used a combination of aphrodisiac oils and implements to make the process easier and keep his hands relatively clean, but tonight he was running late getting ready, and he couldn’t afford to make the preparations.  Methodically, he rubbed circles around his opening before plunging a single, oiled finger inside. 

With his face shoved into the pillows and his back arched in the air, he couldn’t help but imagine someone walking in on him like this.  Not one of the courtesans, for sure, and not a customer, but… someone else.  Someone to excite him and treat him like some _ one  _ instead of some _ thing.   _ That person would be shocked at Nezumi’s appearance in Eve’s room, maybe even taken aback, but Nezumi would beckon them inside with promises of a gratifying sexual encounter.  Maybe not in so many words.  Nezumi added a finger.

Slowly, the person in his mind gained a face and a frame: shorter than Nezumi, less muscle definition but not chubby, soft-looking white hair, a bright pink scar…

Nezumi’s fingers stilled inside him, and he bit his lip.  As much as he wanted to keep going, to enjoy taking his own pleasure for  _ once in his life, damnit,  _ he couldn’t involve Shion.  With a growing sense of guilt, Nezumi continued to open himself in a clinical manner. 

It was going to be a long evening.

\---

Shion entered The Doxy with a satchel slung over his shoulder.  When he sat on one of the plush velvet settees waiting for Eve, a stout, curvaceous woman came from the hallway.  Shion fought to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

She was clad head to toe in black and chrome.  She was bare-breasted, and the only bit of clothing on her chest was an industrial-looking leather harness.  It drew attention to the soft, asymmetrical beauty mark covering half of her chest and going up her neck. The woman had her auburn hair pulled up into a no-nonsense bun.  Her skin-tight vinyl pants accentuated the substantial curve of her hips and belly, and she completed the look with a pair of black leather riding boots.  Shion’s mouth went dry when he noticed what she held in her hand.

It was a long black rod, ending in a leather loop.  He distinctly remembered the implement from a book on old-world horse riding—it was used to whip horses into going faster.  Shion put two and two together and came to the conclusion that it must work on humans in a similar fashion. 

The woman strode into the room with near-military precision.  However, once she neared the middle of the room, she stopped abruptly and turned to Shion.  

Damn, she must have noticed him looking!  In order to save himself the embarrassment of explaining himself, Shion quickly whipped his head around to inspect a faded painting on the wall, but it was too late.  She was walking purposefully toward him.

“Why, hello there,”  she purred.  The loud  _ thunk _ of her heels on the wooden floor made Shion’s anxiety spike.  It didn’t help when something cold tilted his head by the chin. 

“U-uhm, hello, I didn’t mean to--”

“Well look at you, all sweet and embarrassed.  You don’t have to worry, honey, I get it all the time.”  The woman bent her knee and placed her immaculate boot on his armrest.  Shion’s eyes followed the natural progression:  boot, calf, thigh--

“Ahem,” came a familiar voice.  Shion’s head whipped around to find Grant sauntering into the foyer.  He was shirtless, a fact that he seemed to ignore.  

“Kitty, let the boy go,”  he sighed and tsked.  “Look, he’s about to spring from his seat.”

Shion found his voice then, blurting out: “I am not! This is a simple, physiological reaction.”

That was the wrong answer.  Grant laughed and set his bright, amber eyes on Shion.  

“Then you wouldn’t mind taking both of us for the night, would you?”  Grant pressed.  He put his opposite foot up on Shion’s other armrest—he was effectively caged in.  “I can show you a few more  _ physiological reactions,  _ some I’m sure you’ve never experienced...”

Shion screwed his eyes shut, building his courage.  When he opened them, he looked between two sets of confident eyes and settled on Grant’s.  

“Take me to Eve.”

He looked shocked at that.  “… Of course.”  He held out a hand to Shion, and Kitty replaced her foot on the ground.  She looked sheepish, like she had done something wrong.  

Grant led Shion down the hall, but he stopped abruptly a few doors down.  

“Wait here.”

_ What? _

Shion watched Grant take the few strides it took to get to Eve’s door.  He put his ear to the door.  After listening for a second, he rapped on it with jeweled knuckles.

“Eve!  You have a client, are you almost finished?”

Shion heard a surprised voice answer back, “A—a moment, please!”  The rest of her speech was too muffled by the door.

Grant nodded sagely and led Shion to the end of the hallway, where he put his hand on his back and pushed him gently toward the bar, where the burly courtesan from the first night was polishing glasses.   

“This brick wall of a man is Billy, he’ll get you a drink while you wait for Eve.  If you’ll excuse me, I have some clients to see to before Kitty defiles yet another innocent,” 

And with a blown kiss and a wave, Grant was off to converse with the patrons who had just entered The Doxy, likely training that same cocky grin on them to draw them away from Kitty.  Shion didn’t have the time to be disappointed, because Billy slapped his palms down on the bar.

“Hey, kid. You know my name, so what’s yours?”

Shion found Billy smiling gently, leaning his hip against the bar and exuding warmth.  Billy looked like the kind of man that shared his meals with the homeless and the poor.  He probably liked kids.  

“It’s Shion, nice to meet you.”

Billy’s smile only grew wider.  “Like those little purple flowers?  You must love the sun, then.  Can’t say I blame you, though we could do with a little rain.”

Shion leaned forward on the bar.  “Do you like to garden?  You seem to know quite a bit about flowers.”

Billy scoffed.  “Oh, no.  I grow some plants here and there, mostly for food.  But when I can, and when the water supply isn’t too low in the West Block, I like to tend to the wildflowers.  Keeps the birds, bees and butterflies fed, and we can always do with more beauty around here.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, I’m sure the wildlife appreciates your effort.  The butterflies, especially; we’ve had a rough season for them.”

“It’s been tough, yeah.  Do you work with wildlife, Shion?”

Shion smiled sheepishly.  “I’m just a student, right now, but I’m studying ecology.  I want to improve the local ecosystem, maybe help bring back some species we’ve lost as a result of the war.”

Billy clapped Shion on the back jovially.  “Well, good on you, kid.  Want a drink?”

“U-um… Sure?”

“What can I get you?”

Shion floundered.  “A, um--”

An arm wound around Shion’s waist, making him jump. He caught the scent of vanilla and jasmine. 

“I hope you didn’t wait long, my prince.”

 


	7. Mysterious Jars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shion visits with Eve, who learns more about her occasional visitor.

Nezumi jumped at the sound of rapid knocks on his door.  He was completely bare, with three of his fingers buried inside himself.  Shit, he wasn’t even made up! He did his best to control his breathing.

“Eve! You have a client, are you almost finished?”

He held in a gasp at the emptiness when he removed his fingers.  “A—a moment, please! Take them to the bar, I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

At hearing Grant’s receding footsteps, Nezumi concluded that he had done enough to prepare himself, and he went to wash his hands in the basin.   _ You knew you were running late today, why take the extra time to prepare?   _ He sat at his vanity and immediately winced.

_ Oh, yeah, it’s still pretty tender. _

Nezumi ignored the dull ache and removed his hair from its usual high ponytail, letting it fall around his shoulders.  His fringe was matted and frizzy where it was pressed into the pillows, and there was sweat beading at his hairline.  He did some baseline makeup—softened his jaw and cheekbones, contoured, and added mascara and lipstick.  It wasn’t his usual job but it would suffice.  When he looked in the mirror, Eve was staring back.

He brushed his hair out carefully, taking the time to work out the knots.  He blotted some fragrance oil on his neck and decollete, then picked out a dress.  Now came the real trouble.  

Nezumi took a roll of medical tape and pressed his chest upward and inward, creating the illusion of cleavage.   He made it a rule to almost always keep his dresses on during sex; it helped himself and his clients believe in the illusion of Eve’s femininity.  His clients knew about his genitalia, of course, but that was part of the draw, or so he was told.  It was taboo for a man to have sex with a man, but it was an even more illicit thrill to fuck a man dressed as a woman.  

Lastly, he used a garter to bind his penis to his thigh.  With his dress wrapped delicately around him, Eve fell into place around him.  It was like putting on a satin glove.  Eve was so much a part of himself that he naturally lilted his voice to fit the persona.  She was the side of himself that he could allow to feel, and to act on his more delicate fantasies.  While Nezumi didn’t have the time or the money to spend on pawned jewelry or expensive skin creams, Eve could accept them from customers with grace. Eve played the part of the refined lady where Nezumi was the impoverished gutter rat, foul-mouthed and sour.

Slipping a string of gold chain and pearls over her head, Eve left the safety of her room to bring back her waiting customer.  

Imagine her surprise when she found the white-haired virgin sitting at the bar, chatting back and forth with Billy, who was enraptured by the boy.  

_ It seems his honesty and his forthright nature aren’t lost on him, either,  _ Nezumi thought.   _ I’m sure, given kinder circumstances, they would be fast friends. _

Eve sauntered over to Shion, taking care to keep her footfalls soft.  It wouldn’t do to alert him to her presence just yet, especially when the two were having such positive rapport. Billy caught her eye and smiled imperceptibly wider through his moustache.  He understood.

Eve waited until a natural awkwardness settled into their conversation. She snaked her arm around Shion’s waist and purred into his ear, “I hope you didn’t wait long, my prince.”

Shion all but jumped out of his skin.  “E-Eve!”  His skin flushed a pretty pink.  Eve was quick to set her head on his shoulder—she knew it made her look more diminutive and delicate.  To Shion, she hoped it would endear him to her.  He didn’t spend long on why.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

Shion smiled, shaking his head.  His wispy, white hair tickled Eve’s nose.  “No, Grant told me to wait here.  I hope I’m not intruding?”

Eve’s laugh was gentler than Nezumi’s, and it sounded like tinkling bells.  “Not at all, your majesty.  If you’d like, we can leave Billy here to his work and retire to my rooms.  Unless you’d prefer to spend time with us both?”  Nezumi, from deep within Eve, hoped that he would decline the offer.

Shion smiled reluctantly, oblivious as ever.  “If he’d like to join us, I suppose it’s alright.”

Billy let out a guffaw.  Part of it, Eve was sure, was from seeing her resulting nearly-imperceptible frown.  

“No thanks, Shion.  I’ve got a bar to keep for now, though it is quite the alluring offer.”

Eve took Shion by the arm, waving to Billy and sharing a conspiratorial look. She pretended not to notice the way the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“So,” Shion said before even sitting down, “I’ve got something for you.”

Eve’s hackles rose.  “Shion, I told you I didn’t want anything from you for the other night, it’s no trouble--”

Shion stopped Eve with a hand over hers.  “It’s not that. Just let me show you?”

Eve grimaced and acquiesced. When Shion pulled a tiny jar out of his bag, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“What is that?”  

“Take a taste.”

Shion unscrewed the jar and offered it to Eve.  When she dipped her finger in the bright yellow substance, it clung to her fingertip.  It smelled overwhelmingly of lemon.  When it hit his tongue, it lit up with citrus intensity.  

“Did you bring me… Lemon curd?”

Shion’s smile was a mile wide.  “How is it?”

“It’s… Delicious, Shion.  Where’d you find this?”

Shion wrung his hands; he was easy to read when he was embarrassed.  “My mom has a lemon tree on our roof, and it produces fruit pretty steadily in the summer months.  This makes it easier to preserve, and we can put it on pastries, too.”

Eve smiled gently, re-capping the jar and snatching it playfully from Shion’s hand.  “I’ll have to keep it to myself, then.  I imagine it sells well at the bakery, and I don’t want anyone in the West Block catching wind of my secret supply.”

“Oh!  It’s not a big deal, I can bring some more preserves, if you like?”  Shion ran his fingers through his hair, worrying at the scar where it wrapped around the back of his neck.  It was cute to see him flustered.  “I wasn’t sure if you liked sweets, or something more savory… We have plenty of flavored butters and spreads, too.  Did you like the bread?”

Eve didn’t mention that she rationed the bread, and she hadn’t even tasted a few of the rolls and loaves.  From what she could remember, they were all lovely, but one of them was particularly good…

“One of them had little flecks of gray in it, and it was shaped like a braid?”

Shion beamed.  “The rosemary bread! It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Well, it was kind of you to bring it.”   _ I would love some right about now, I haven’t eaten since early this morning. _

Shion looked surprised when Eve trailed her fingers up his arm to reach his neck.  When she traced his scar with careful fingers, she could tell he was embarrassed.  “How did you get this mark?  It’s rather alluring, I must say.”

“When I was in high school, I got bit by some invasive species of wasp.  I was out on a bike ride, and I was stopping for a drink in the park when it happened.  It killed a few people, that spring, before the Bureau of Environmental Science eradicated them.  I reacted badly—my body felt like it was being submerged in lava, it was so bad that I told myself I would rather die than go through that kind of pain.”  Shion’s gaze fell to his lap, and his voice gained a more somber tone.  

“If I could have killed myself, then, I would have.”

Eve moved to console him, as she would any other customer, but she didn’t want to treat Shion like any other person.  She wanted to respect his introspection, and so she leaned away.  “So the scar is from the wasp’s venom, but what gave you that hair?”

“I woke up after passing out from the pain and my hair had gone white.  Something about stress or trauma, the doctor said.”  Shion touched the hair at the nape of his neck self-consciously.  “It just never went back.”

Now Eve couldn’t help herself.  She tucked a few strands behind his ear, looking his face over.  “And your eyes?”

“Same thing, I woke up and they were that color.”  Shion looked Eve in the eyes, his smile wry.  “They’re off-putting, aren’t they?”

_ I can’t look away. _

“You shouldn’t put so much stock in your appearance, my prince.”  Eve stroked the scar where it began on his cheek with her thumb.   _ So soft, even for a scar.  No damage done to the skin or the tissue underneath.   _ “This appearance is proof that you lived.”

Shion looked truly cowed now.  “Others died, people less lucky than me.  I shouldn’t be so vain.”

“Don’t discount your experience, Shion.  You lived, yes, and the long-lasting damage is cosmetic, but you did go through something terrible.  It made you stronger, though, didn’t it?”

“You’re right, Eve,”  Shion reached for Eve’s hand tentatively.  She accepted, palm facing upward, and nodded once as if to say  _ it’s no problem. _

“Thank you.  For listening, and for your advice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Just a warning, the next few chapters will most likely contain non-con and rape, so if that's not something you're comfortable reading, keep up with the chapter summaries!


	8. Violent Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unforeseen circumstances push Shion and Eve together, and the unexpected closeness breeds the need for distance. Eve and Nezumi both suffer a lasting blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: rape, sexual violence, slurs.

If Eve could have stayed in that room with Shion forever, she would have.  She was enjoying keeping her clothes  _ on _ for once, and something about Shion’s obvious sneaking looks was endearing.  She caught him examining her face once again, while she sat at the vanity and applied some balm to the chapped skin on her cheeks.  The constant  wind was really drying her out.

Eve looked at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow when he saw her staring back at him.  

“See something you like, my prince?”

Shion immediately began stammering and waving his hands about.  “I--I’m sorry, Eve, I didn’t mean--”

Eve rose from her stool.  As she stepped closer, Shion watched in rapt attention.  

“Now, Shion…” Eve kneeled by the side of the bed, at his feet.  “Don’t lie to me.”

She took hold of his flighty hands and brought her lips to his palm.  

“What is it you’d like from me?  You forget that I make my living reading people, and I’m no amateur.”

Shion began to stutter out an apology, but before he could get his mouth to form the word ‘sorry,’ Eve had a thumb pressed to his bottom lip.  He blushed, and the reddened skin was most obvious as it made its way down his scar.  Eve traced it with her eyes, but couldn’t follow it past Shion’s starched white collar.  

“Now, let’s try that again,” she murmured.  “You can’t surprise me, Shion, so don’t be so guarded.”

Shion worried his lip for a moment, then brought his gaze down to hers.

“Could you, um… Maybe, tell me more of your favorite books?”

Eve blinked for a moment.  She was taken completely off guard.  Within seconds, she was chittering behind her hand, then laughing in earnest.  Meanwhile, Shion looked like he’d been caught with his pants down.

“I didn’t think it was such a strange request…” he muttered, pouting and watching Eve with her head tilted back, still chuckling to herself.  She carefully dabbed at her eyes with a sleeve.

“No, no, it’s not that…”  she was smiling wide and cocking her head to the side, as if she’d seen him for the first time.  “I just expected something more… well, salacious.”

Shion looked curious.  “Salacious?”

“You know,  risqué .  Amorous, maybe.  But not something as simple and honest as my favorite stories.”

Shion seemed to look inward, tapping a finger at his breastbone in a gesture he didn’t even realize he was doing.  “I mean, I could have asked for something else.  A favorite dessert?”

Eve cooed gently, leaning up to rest a hand gently on his cheek.  

“Of course not, silly boy, that’s a perfectly--”

At that exact moment, a series of loud knocks sounded at Eve’s door.  

“Eve, darling!” came a jovial voice through the wooden door.  Eve’s eyes immediately went wide, and she attempted to shoo Shion toward the screened room divider.  The Mistress began jiggling the doorknob, waiting for a response.  The door creaked open.

“I have a lovely group of people here who’ve come to listen to the songbird of the Doxy, and I’ve kept them waiting as long as I’m able.” The Mistress’s kitten heels made short  _ click _ s on the wood floor.  

Without thinking, Eve pushed Shion against the wall and boxed in his head with her arms.  Anything to keep that distinctive hair and meandering scar from The Mistress’s  view. With no preamble, Eve pressed her lips furiously to his and moaned wantonly into his mouth.  Loudly.

“Eve! Would you mind coming out and tending to our… Oh!”  The Mistress’s footsteps stopped at the noise.  

Eve chanced a moment to open her eyes, and she found Shion’s screwed shut.  Soon after, his hands found their way to the back of her dress and fisted themselves in it, Shion letting out a noise of muffled distress and arousal.  It sent shivers cascading down Eve’s back and sides.

Mistress Coleridge tittered a laugh and began retreating at the sound, her assumptions confirmed.

“My apologies, dears!” she called, and the door closed with a satisfying  _ shunk. _

Eve lowered her arms and began to disengage, but a timid command stopped her.

“Please, don’t.”

Her eyebrows creased in concern.  She matched his volume, murmuring “Don’t what?” against his ear.  At Shion’s answering shiver, she pulled back entirely. She put a few paces between them.

“If you want something from me, Shion, you had better learn to ask properly.”

He looked almost completely lost in that moment, as if the distance between them brought him from his lust.  

_ So that’s what this was.  I should have known. _

She stood tall, arms crossed over her chest in an unconscious gesture of distance.  

“Go, then.”

“Eve--”

“I said  _ go,  _ Shion.  I have clients to tend to, and unless you plan to pay me for these little get-togethers, I’m afraid I can’t entertain you any longer.”

He looked as if he’d been slapped.  After watching her stand stonily in the center of the room for a few seconds more, her silver eyes unreadable, Shion scurried about trying to gather his satchel and his coat.  

He stopped at the door, turning and digging into his satchel.  

He placed a worn book on her vanity, turning silently and exiting the room.  She heard his slow steps down the creaky wooden hallway. 

\---

Eve waited a solid five minutes before making her way to the foyer.  She didn’t look to see what Shion left behind; she didn’t think she could handle those emotions at this juncture.

She found Gill perched on a female client’s lap, taking sips of wine from her mouth.  When she noticed Eve, she slid from the woman’s lap and slunk over to Eve, arms behind her back.  

“I saw that boy leave your rooms.  Breaking hearts again, are we?”

“Stuff it, Gill,” Eve muttered, no heart in it.  “Accompany me.”

“Don’t I always?”

With that, Gill waved to the group of clients she left and hopped up onto the ramshackle stage by the bar.  She propped up a cello that had seen better days and pulled up a stool.  

“This one’s for you lovely people, courtesy of the Doxy’s little songbird.” Gill said, barely loud enough to be heard.  She made it a point to never speak louder than absolutely necessary.

When Eve sang, Nezumi could almost believe that they were there for him and him only.  Yes, he was the headliner at a whorehouse and that wasn’t much to be proud of, but in those moments where all eyes were on him, he could forget.  Right now, as sound poured from his lungs and hit the stale air, he needed nothing more than to forget.  

He didn’t have it in him to act for the crowd, to woo them the way he was accustomed to.  It took too much.  Eve wasn’t keen on showing herself tonight, not in full form, so Nezumi would have to do. 

One client, however, seemed to be just fine with the performance.  He was perched on the seat of a raggedy couch, rocks glass in hand, with his eyes traveling from Eve’s throat downward.  

Not once did he meet her eyes.

_ Seems we’ve caught one,  _ Nezumi thought with a suppressed sigh.

Nezumi would have been fine letting the song continue forever; the heavy gaze of the patron was getting more and more oppressive, and he looked about ready to jump from his seat and take her right there on stage.  

_ Please let him be quick. _

Her song ended, and as soon as she stepped off the stage, he was taking her arm in his vice-like grip.  She held back from digging her fingernails into his wrist and instead led him to her rooms.  

He closed the door and locked it with no preamble, pushing her onto the bed.  She had enough foresight to splay her arms out behind her so she wouldn’t hit the headboard.  She didn’t have the time to right herself before he was on top of her, large and stinking of sweat. His dick was already thick and jutting out from his fly.

“I will have you,” he hissed, before sliding a calloused hand up her dress.  He went straight for her core, or where it would have been, but before he could reach it he bumped against Nezumi’s penis.  Almost immediately, he recoiled.

“What the fuck is that?!”  he boomed, grabbing Nezumi by the hair and pulling backwards viciously.

Nezumi had had enough of his rough treatment and his horrid stink.  He bared his teeth and choked out “My dick,  _ your majesty.” _

The man saw red.  His eyes narrowed before he brought his bruising grip to Nezumi’s hips.  He flipped him over like he was nothing more than a ragdoll, catching Nezumi by surprise.  His scruff scraped against Nezumi’s neck.  

“You’ll pay for fooling me,  _ whore, _ ” the man snarled.  He hiked Nezumi’s dress up over his ass and rammed a finger into his ass with a grunt.

If it hadn’t been for his brief prep earlier, something would have torn.  As it was, the man’s finger was blunt and dry--the sharp sting was enough to have panic rise in Nezumi’s throat.  His heart rammed against his ribcage.

_ Please, let it end here. _

Nezumi jumped forward as a rough hand squeezed his ass, right where a bruise was healing.  The man must have noticed this, because he dug his fingers deep.  Nezumi held back a whimper of pain, and instead tried to wrench his body from the man’s grip.

“You stay  _ right there _ ,” the man snarled, and he pulled his finger from Nezumi to press him down into the mattress.

Now Nezumi’s hands began to shake where they were gripping the headboard.   _ Oh no. No, please no. _

He felt the hot, thick head of the man’s penis against his hole.  He didn’t have time to make a sound before it was thrust deep inside him and the man’s pelvis smacked roughly against his ass.  A hand gripped his throat, pressing the thumb into his trachea and stopping any further sound from leaving him other than pained gasps.

Nezumi’s eyes stung, but he refused to let any tears fall.  He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.  After several violent thrusts, Nezumi felt himself distancing his mind from his body.  Somewhere far above him, the man was grunting like a beast and bucking his hips forward, unrestrained.  Nezumi vaguely noticed the feeling of teeth digging into the muscle of his shoulder, along with the drag of stubble and the sound of his dress tearing.  

After several more thrusts, the man was spending deep inside him.  He wasted barely a second basking in his orgasm before he backed off of the bed and threw a few coins on the floor.  Nezumi heard him as if he were speaking through glass.

“Here’s your payment, you faggot.”

He didn’t even hear his door slam shut.


	9. Cigarettes on the Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nezumi/Eve deals with the aftermath of a sexual assault, and Shion tries to forget the night before.

Shion woke to the smell of bacon cooking.  He tried to open his puffy eyes, but he couldn’t will them.

_ Maybe I’ll take another few hours,  _ he thought.   _ Mom can handle the morning baking herself, she does it on the days when I have early class. _

_ But I’d rather not sit in bed and think about last night, either. _

Shion rolled out of bed with the crackling of his spine.  The promise of fresh-baked bread didn’t hurt, either.

Karan was bent over a large bowl of dough when he descended the stairs, and she was rolling it around on the floured counter.  Upon closer inspection, Shion noticed that the bread had tiny flecks of herbs spread throughout.  

_ The rosemary bread was Eve’s favorite. _

“Good morning, Shion!  Would you mind glazing the bundt cakes?  They’re all cooled on the rack, there.”  She pointed to the other side of the kitchen.

“Sure, Mom.  What flavors are we doing today?” he responded, doing his best to appear chipper despite the smell in the air.

She patted her hands on her apron to dislodge most of the flour.  “I decided on chocolate chip, banana walnut, and espresso almond, though I don’t know how well the last one will sell.  It’s a particular taste.”

Shion threw a sheepish grin her way, to which she rolled her eyes and smiled fondly.

“And of course you can try it, I made us a smaller one for breakfast.  It’s not going to go with the bacon and eggs, though.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious anyway, Mom.”

In the process of preparing the breads, muffins and cakes for the day ahead and stealing bites of breakfast between tasks, Shion nearly forgot about the night before.  The cakes were glazed, the muffins plated, the tiered trays of pastries placed in the window, and he was elbow-deep in a large batch of sourdough when Karan came bustling back into the kitchen.

“So, how was last night’s study group?  I hope you kids didn’t stay up too late.” 

Shion stiffened visibly, staring into the dough.  He composed himself quickly enough before his mother noticed.  

“Oh, it was nice!  We got through that last chapter on sedimentary rock composition pretty quickly, so I think we’ll be fine for the exam.”  Shion turned and smiled reassuringly.  “I’ll make you proud Mom.”

Karan waved a hand and returned to the batter in front of her.  “You always do, Shion.  There’s very little you could do to disappoint me, with all the hard work you’ve put in thus far.  Just do what makes you happy, and I’ll be happy.”

Shion almost scoffed.   _ Does lying to you about studying and instead frequenting a brothel in the West Block count?  What about falling for a courtesan and getting your heart broken? _

_ What about wanting to see her still? _

Shion broke from his thoughts when Karan pressed a bag into his hand and bumped him away from the dough with her hip.  She was smiling up at him gently.  “I’ve got it from here, honey.  You get ready for class soon, or you’ll be late!”

Shion had the best mother in the world, and he knew it.  He let her work in peace.

\---

Billy was watching the sun rise over the crumbling brick walls of the West Block when he noticed Eve sidle up to him.  He went to put out his cigarette, but Eve stayed his hand.  

Normally, she hated the things and the way they made her hair smell, but she enjoyed the bitter scent on the air for a moment, as well as the silence that permeated the early morning air.

Eve was covered from head to toe in a long silk wrap, which shrouded her face in soft shadow and draped over her in the cold.  It was times like this when Billy didn’t know what to call her--Eve was clearly the stage and work persona, and Nezumi usually began when the makeup came off and the torn pants went back on.  In this interstitial place the boundary between them was hard to parse, and Billy was sure it was just as difficult for them to distinguish.

But not one to miss things like body language and peculiar dress, Billy plucked at the fabric and furrowed his brows when Eve slapped his hand away.  So he was right.

“Eve, let me see,” he murmured gently, knowing that the last thing they’d want was his care.  They were like a wounded cat: ready to spring and attack the first hand held out to them.  They did just as he suspected and retreated further into the darkness of the awning, conveniently away from his supplicant hands. Billy sighed.  

“If you don’t want me to look, I understand.  At least tell me who it was so I can keep them away from you and the girls, should they come back.”

Eve’s voice was raspy and quiet, as if they’d been screaming.  It was, however, back to Nezumi’s gruffer rumble. “He was a new customer, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”

Billy inwardly winced at the sound of their voice.  If she had been screaming, he knew he would have heard her from either the bar or his own work-room across the hall.  He looked into the dark, right at where Eve’s wrap fell from their head to their chest. He could vaguely see the outline of handprints, quickly blooming to a bluish tone.  When Eve noticed his gaze, they quickly wrapped themself up tighter.

Billy sighed.  “Do you have a description?”

They folded their arms over their chest in a defensive posture.  “He was… Burly.  Kind of tall, with a black mop of hair and patchy stubble.” 

Billy sighed.  “I didn’t seem him come in, I must’ve been with a client.  Did he give you any cues?  Was he grabby or violent from the start?”

Eve snarled.  “Billy, if you want to continue trying to  _ blame me _ for this, I’m leaving.”  

When Billy held his hands up in a placating gesture and quickly apologized, Eve reined in their frustration and looked down at their feet.  “He was possessive, yes, but I thought I’d just give him a quick fuck and keep seeing clients.  I didn’t expect… Well, any of this.”

Billy waited for them to elaborate, and when the silence hung in the air long enough for them to gather their thoughts, they began speaking in a hiss.  

“He felt my dick and apparently didn’t understand the role I play.  Before I could even  _ explain,  _ he had me pushed onto the bed and was reaching up my dress,”  Eve’s voice hitched.  “I-I’m used to having the upper hand, I woo them and then bed them,  _ I’m  _ the one in control--”

Before they could say any more, Billy was reaching out a hand--in it was a carefully folded handkerchief, tattered and threadbare though it was.  Eve took it with practiced grace, despite their distress, and lowered the wrap to their shoulders in order to dab at their eyes.  Billy did his best not to physically wince.  

The bruises on their throat were deeper and larger than he could have seen in the shadows.  He inched closer, waiting for their nod to continue and assess the damage.  

“He could have collapsed your windpipe, Eve.”  Billy growled.  “That fucker, if he ever steps in here again and tries to get at any of you--”

Billy noticed Nezumi’s trademark smirk, even underneath the weary set of his face.  “Trust me, Billy, if I could get the drop on him, I’d be more than happy to bury him with one less pair of testicles.  As it is, I’d just like a bath and something to eat.”

Billy nodded in agreement, keeping his lips in a tight line.  It wouldn’t do to get upset now, not when they needed his help and were working so hard to keep themself together.  “Do you want me to get one of the girls to help you draw a bath?  I can never get all of the fragrance oils straight, otherwise I’d help you myself.”

Eve tried to playfully push him away, but the commonplace gesture fell flat.  “... I thought I’d go home, actually.  I’d like the quiet.”

Billy scowled.  “Not happening, Eve.  I can promise you quiet, but I can’t let you go out on your own like this.  Who knows where that fucker’s lurking?”  Billy carefully herded Eve into the Doxy, going straight to their rooms.  

“Gather what you need, you can stay in my private rooms upstairs.  I can take the lounge in the living quarters.”

Eve was about to protest, but Billy led them into the room and began assessing the damage.  He ripped the sheets off the bed with a ‘hmph’ and left, presumably to clean them himself.  

With that, Nezumi was alone with Eve.  He closed the door and locked it; Billy would forgive him for needing the extra security.  He threw off his wrap and dress as if they burned his skin, for the first time that night noticing the discomfort he felt at having those same clothes clinging to his skin.  He wouldn’t salvage the dress--he had plenty, and this one was ruined for Eve now. 

Nezumi covered himself in a no-nonsense cotton dressing gown and gathered his necessities: a change of clothing to sleep in, his worn leather bag, a few skin creams and ointments, and his superfiber cloth.  Just as he was about to ascend the stairs, Billy came in through the back door with a smug grin on his face.  

“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked, handing Nezumi a book of matches.  When he looked at him skeptically, Billy nodded to the door he came in through.  Nezumi strode out the door to find the pile of sheets stuffed into a rusted metal trash can, along with the smell of strong alcohol.

Nezumi smiled as he tossed a lit match into the can, watching it instantly blooming into a blaze.

\---

Nezumi had his mouth below the perfumed bathwater, inhaling the sweet vapor and allowing the oiled water to soak into his skin.  He concocted a heady mixture of neroli, clary sage, and cloves which simultaneously relaxed and invigorated him.  He wanted nothing more than to melt into the water himself, becoming part of the liquid warmth, but he knew better than anyone that he had to face the day ahead, as well as the following night.  

Just to remind him of his fallible, frail human body, his stomach grumbled.  The acid from his empty stomach, compounded by the anxiety he’d been trying to tamp down, was eating away at his esophagus and threatening to overflow into his mouth, sour and noxious.  

Three gentle knocks sounded at the bathroom door and before Nezumi could jump to his feet and promptly slip on the greased tile, Billy’s voice sounded through the wood.  

“I’ve got a bowl of broth and a hunk of bread leftover from dinner, if you want it.  I’ll heat it up and leave it by the bedside, okay?”

Nezumi didn’t have it in him to answer--he wouldn’t mind taking a trip down to the kitchen and scavenging from the near-spoiled vegetables, but he knew Billy would stop him before he reached the doors from the bedroom to the living space.  Instead, he drifted back into the warmth of the bath.  He took care lowering himself gently into the water in order to avoid jostling his backside.

_ If you hadn’t let Shion leave. no, if you hadn’t  _ forced him out,  _ you wouldn’t be in this situation. _

_ He would probably be curled up in your bed-- _

_ Eve’s bed, and you wouldn’t have to take any clients, you could have talked with him all night-- _

_ No, don’t think like that.  Those clients would have asked to hear you sing, regardless. You would have had to usher Shion out either way, and that man would have seen you.   _

_ In the end, the chips would fall in the exact same way. _

Nezumi sat in the bath until his fingers and toes pruned, and he let the water go cold.


	10. Milling Crowds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shion and Nezumi try to go about life as usual.

Kitty was in the process of whipping a client into submission when a furtive knock sounded at her door. She knelt down by the blindfolded and gagged body.

“You don’t mind if I see to a visitor, do you, pet?”

When the bound woman nodded, Kitty strode to the door.  Upon opening it, she found Gill leaning against the doorframe.  

“We’ve got a situation, Kit.  You remember that group that caused all that ruckus last night, broke a chair trying to perform their own circus act?” she queried under her breath.  Kitty nodded wordlessly.

“Well, seems one of those bastards roughed Eve up pretty badly,”  she curled her lip back in a snarl.  Kitty’s eyes narrowed.  

“How bad?”

“Billy won’t say anything except she wouldn’t show him the marks.”

Kitty swore under her breath.  “Give me time to explain the situation to this darling here,” she said, gesturing to the figure waiting patiently on the floor. “and I’ll be good to go out.”

Gill nodded quickly and hurried up the stairs, presumably to gather what information she could from Billy.

\---

Nezumi, after much arguing with Billy about keeping the situation from the Mistress, strong-armed through the bulky man and trekked home to his cozy bunker.  As it was, he missed a rehearsal at the theatre.  He needed to get back on some kind of schedule, so he took what little money he’d earned and wandered through the marketplace.

The old man from the roasted nuts stall was manning his usual station while a young boy (who was likely his grandson) mixed a kettle full of spices over a fire.  Nezumi’s nose caught the delicate scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, along with the sumptuousness of honey in the process of bubbling over the flame.  He dug out a few coins.

“However many almonds I can get, if you wouldn’t mind.” he asked not unkindly, but more brusque than he intended.  The old man saw his tired eyes and set to measuring out a paper bag.  He seemed to deliberate with himself for a moment before sneaking in an extra little scoop.

He plopped the bag on the wooden counter.  “Enjoy them, you look like you need a little pick-me-up.” 

Nezumi mustered his stage persona as well as he could and gave the man a wan smile and a quick bow before whipping his superfiber cloth about his shoulders and disappearing into the crowd, paper bag clutched in his gloved hand.

\---

“Give me a little more, Eve!” the stage manager called over the theater seats. “Begin from ‘when Duncan is asleep,’ if you would.”

Nezumi flicked his hair back behind his ear in frustration.  He hadn’t been practicing his lines nearly as much as he should have in the days following the assault, and it showed.  It didn’t help that this infernal corset was squeezing the life out of his ribcage, either, right over a tender spot on his flank.  He didn’t need to give his understudy any more reason to go crying to the director about his sub-par performance.

_ The first of many such dress rehearsals I shall suffer,  _ he thought to himself before launching into the scene, with much less vim and vigor than he was known for.

\---

Shion tried his best, but no matter what he did to keep his mind away from the Doxy, he couldn’t.  As the days passed, he replayed the moments before he left in his mind.  What could he have done to explain to Eve how he felt without offending her?  Was he doing something wrong just by visiting her, and was he right to stop going?  Regardless, he wanted to see Eve again, if only just to apologize for wasting her time yet again.

After class was over for the day, Shion grabbed his bag and began walking the increasingly cracked pavement to the West Block.  He knew that the Doxy wasn’t open for business at this time in the afternoon, so he walked the most populated areas in search of her raven hair and piercing grey eyes.  

He passed a group of men playing beat-up string instruments in the middle of the street.  Sometimes they were  jostled by passers-by and the tune hitched before continuing on into the din.  He stopped to drop a coin into the empty instrument case, but before it hit the velvet bottom a dirty child had already nabbed it and was running into an alley.  One of the players looked to Shion testily and shooed him away.

After that, he kept his arms tight to his chest and did his best to keep pace with the crowd.  Soon he found himself lost in the winding streets and alleyways with not even a landmark to guide him.  

_ Shit, how am I supposed to get home before sundown?  Mom will be so worried, I never told her where I was going. _

Shion waded through the crowd blindly, until a flickering marquee caught his eye.

_ Didn’t Eve say something about a theater..? _

Before he could question his memory, Shion pushed through the bodies to the theater, which had a play schedule tacked to the front door.  

**Spring Schedule**

**Twelfth Night**

**Macbeth**

**-Summer Break-**

**More to be announced in the Fall**

Shion peeked through the dusty glass inlaid in the wooden theater doors, only to meet darkness.  It was nearly dinnertime, they wouldn’t be showing anything until later.  A bit put-out, Shion turned and melted back into the crowd.

\---

Just then, Gill and Kitty were on their way to oversee Nezumi’s walk home.  They were done up in earth-toned cloaks and unassuming garments.  On Billy’s request, they were keeping far from Nezumi’s line of sight.  None of the courtesans wanted Nezumi to feel like they were handling him with kid gloves, but they didn’t want something to happen to him while he made his way through the West Block.  They also wanted to see if they could find the perpetrator and give him a good, old fashioned reckoning.

“Hey Gill, honey, look over there.  By the front doors.”

“Yeah? You see our mark?” … “Is that Eve’s little errand boy? With the shock of white hair?”

Kitty looked to Gill and scoffed.  “He’s no errand boy.  Have you seen the way he looks at her?  The poor boy is smitten, and he keeps on coming back.”

“Exactly,” Gill muttered, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious. “He gets uncomfortable when any of us come ‘round, he about jumped out of his seat that first night. He clearly doesn’t know his way between anyone’s legs, so he has to be doing something else for her.”

Kitty waved away Gill’s ideas with her hand.  “He’s just one of those blushy types! He looks lost, the poor lamb.”

Before Kitty could ask her where she was going, Gill was snaking her way between bodies toward Shion’s retreating back.  His shoulders were slumped.  

“Gill, we’re waiting for Eve, remember?”  Kitty called into the crowd, and just like that, Shion stopped in his tracks.

\---

Shion thought he heard her name, drifting on the dusty air. 

_ But of course, she’s the star of the next production.  She’s the talk of the West Block.  _

Before his doubts could push him further away from the theater, he felt a tap at his shoulder. 

“Hey, errand boy.  Where’ve you been?”

When he whipped around, one of the other courtesans from the Doxy was standing there, the blonde one.  She seemed to be made up of purely angles, and her dark eyes were sharp.  Shion worried his lip.

“I wouldn’t call myself her errand boy, more of a nuisance, really.” he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard in the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Gill, however, shook her head and patted his shoulder.  

“C’mon back with us, why don’t you?”

Shion considered her for a moment--no insincerity, no snide smirk.  This woman wasn’t poking fun at him, like the other courtesans had.  She didn’t seem to want his money or his interest, either.  

_ I could see Eve again, I could apologize to her for-- _

“Gilly!” Shion heard a familiar woman’s voice hiss from the throng.  “They’ll be out of rehearsal at any moment, let’s go!”

Gill melted back into the indistinguishable bodies.  Shion stood on his toes and craned his neck to find her, but she had vanished just as quickly as she came.  

Shion heard a faint  _ ding _ from his wrist and realized that someone was trying to call him.   _ Shit, it’s late, mom must be wondering where I am. _

“Hey, Mom!  I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was, I’m on my way back!”

“It’s alright, honey, I was waiting to start dinner until you came home. … What’s all that commotion?  Is something going on at the campus?  Shion, you should have told me if you wanted to stay for an event!”

“No, no, Mom, it’s fine, I’m just leaving campus now.  I’ll be home in fifteen, okay? I need to stop and make some copies at the library.”

“Of course, honey, I’ll get the chicken and dumplings going, I hope that sounds good!”

Shion could barely hide the guilt in his voice.  “That sounds great, Mom.  See you soon.”

He listened to her chipper “goodbye” and hung up, but not before peering back at the theater longingly.

_ Soon. _


	11. Hazy Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve gets a visit from a regular client.
> 
> Sorry for the late update, hopefully a longer chapter will serve as my apology!

Nezumi nearly lost his mind when he felt eyes boring into his back on his walk home.  He knew they would be watching over him, but he had hoped they would be more discreet.

_ They care about you, you asshole.  Be more grateful. _

_ They always seem to be saving me from things, though.  Maybe I can handle my own, just this once? _

_ No, quit it.  Just get home, then you can be in peace.  Blissful quiet and a short bath before you have to head back to the Doxy. _

_ God, I just want things to go back to normal.   _

Nezumi had an idea come to him, something that would keep the girls on their toes and maybe grant him some freedom if he was lucky.  He waited until the street became narrow and the alleys began to branch off in-between buildings.  Then, he covered his head with his superfiber cloak and dove into a hidden alcove.  

Peering from behind the worn brick wall, Nezumi looked for his keepers and found them gesturing wildly between the two of them, then nodding and splitting up, presumably to find him.

Nezumi walked quickly between buildings, sometimes climbing rusty wrought iron balconies or diving into bushes to avoid the girls.  He grinned; this was some of the most fun he’d had in a long time.  His ears caught the sound of Kitty’s heels clicking on the cracked flagstones and he took off underneath a footbridge, hanging with ivy and moss.  

Here, in this darkened alcove, he could take a breath.  He felt bad for leaving Kitty and Gill in the lurch looking for him, but he honestly needed the space.  He didn’t enjoy being coddled or treated differently, despite the unease he still felt about the man who abused him.

_ If I saw him right now, coming right for me, what would I do?  Stand and fight him, or run? _

It was the fact that the question hung in his mind that really bothered him.  If it were any other person who had affronted him, he would be quick to pound their face into the dirt under his boot.  He wasn’t used to the feeling of vulnerability that threatened to stop him at every corner, nor was he prepared for the choking fear that bubbled up his throat at the slightest reminder: a hand on his arm, someone brushing past him in a crowd, or a voice just too close to his ear.  It was too much for his tired mind to process, and he found himself backing down from conflicts he was used to taking in stride.  That day the primadonna of the theater took his favorite pot of eyeliner, and rather than march into her dressing room and demand it back, he let her keep it, just for now. 

Nezumi snapped back to reality and, after surveying the surrounding streets, decided that his followers were a decent distance behind him.  He took his favorite route home, past the solitary dunes and the abandoned playground.  Maybe he’d stop and take in the view, out here where no one was around.

\---

It was late, and Eve was doing her best to look aloof and above-it-all while lounging on a settee.  Her eyes were done in dark kohl, mostly to cover the purplish bruises forming under her eyes from lack of sleep.  Her dress this evening was more modest than usual: a royal blue blouse that crept up her neck in a Victorian style, as well as a long skirt that draped around her ankles.  The unintended effect of the outfit, severe as it was, was keeping customers from coming too close.  Of course, some would pass her by and make weak attempts at wooing, but she was unimpressed.  Maybe the character of the frigid matron would keep her from having to bed too many clients with her ass still sore.

“Hello, I’m here to see Eve, is she about?” asked a meek voice from across the room.  Eve looked to the source of the voice and smiled.  It was Farah, chatting with Mistress Coleridge.  Farah was a regular and, therefore, knew enough to indulge the Mistress when she was making her rounds.  Eve waved demurely, catching Farah’s eye and beckoning her over with a finger.  Farah’s resulting smile was close-lipped but radiant, and she excused herself from the Mistress to make her way to Eve’s side.

“You’re looking stunning as always, Farah,”  Eve said warmly, taking her hand and giving it their usual kiss of greeting.  She removed Farah’s scarf to better see her face.  “My orange blossom.”

“As are you, Eve,” Farah tucked her hair behind her ear where it was falling out of its loose clip on the back of her head and settled into her usual place on Eve’s lap.  “Have you been doing well?”

Eve was about to respond in the affirmative, but something about Farah’s comforting presence stopped her from the automatic response.

“The work has been… difficult, as of late.”  Eve murmured, drawing her fingers over Farah’s rough, cotton cloak. The fabric was thick, protective.  Something Eve could respect.  “I would say more, but I chance the lovely woman before me feeling put out.”

Farah smiled and shook her head.  “Nothing could keep me from my visits, you know this.”  She seemed to deliberate for a moment, then slunk from Eve’s lap.  Her hand looped around Eve’s wrist was solid, moreso than anything in the past day.

“Let’s go back to your rooms and take advantage of the privacy the space provides,” Farah suggested, leading Eve by her hand forward.  Farah missed the resulting stiffness in Eve’s shoulders and the set of her mouth.  Eve inadvertently slowed as they came closer to her door, a fact which Farah did take notice of.

She turned to completely face the courtesan, who was doing her best to appear unperturbed, as before.  “I can come back at a later date, if that’s more amenable to you.”  Farah offered, without judgement or ire. Eve looked taken aback, then chagrined.  

“No, of course not!  Please, let’s go inside so I can take care of you.”  Eve moved to open the door and usher her client into her chambers, but Farah stayed put.  

“How about this.  I get us some drinks--ah!”  she raised a hand to silence Eve before she could protest.  “I insist.”

Eve raised an eyebrow.  “You’re the client, and I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, if you remember.” 

Farah rolled her eyes good-naturedly and turned the way they came, veering left toward the bar.  

With one last sigh, Eve made her way into her room.  One of the floorboards creaked underneath her boots, and she was instantly transported back to that night, when her feet faltered on the worn floor and she was pushed to the bed.  Her ears rang, and Eve could do nothing except remember with shocking detail the events of that night.

… “Eve? Eve, I didn’t know which you’d prefer, so I thought I’d give you the choice between something quick and something sippable.”  Eve felt Farah glide past to place the glasses on the vanity table.  “Don’t worry, I’ll drink whichever you leave.”

Eve shook off her fugue, nodding to Farah in gratitude.  Her smile was genuine; Farah was a kind soul.  “Thank you, I’ll take the shot, then.”  Farah pressed the glass into her hand and watched as the taller courtesan knocked it back expertly before handing the glass back.  If Farah was surprised, she didn’t show it.  

“You said the work’s been difficult lately?” she asked, making her way to the bed and curling up on the plush pillows, awaiting her partner.  

“Nothing that will impact my performance, I assure you,” Eve murmured, beginning to undo the buttons at her high collar. Farah stayed her hands. 

“Actually, if you’re amenable to it, I’d like to take care of you.”  Farah’s eyes were dark, yet open and honest.  She waited patiently for Eve’s response.

“I mean, um... “ Eve worried her lip; she couldn’t tell if the reddening of her cheeks was from embarrassment or alcohol.  “I-I suppose, if that’s something you’d like.  Please, disregard the bruising--”

Eve noticed Farah’s eyes almost imperceptibly narrow; she knew the signs as well as Eve did, herself.  “Eve, I only want your companionship, as much as you can give it.”

With a nod, Eve positioned herself below Farah, who was now raised up on her elbows.  The shaking in Eve’s hand was something easy to miss, or so Eve hoped.  She coaxed Farah to undo her buttons, nodding each time their eyes met. When the violet bruises, some turning yellow, revealed themselves from beneath the lace, Farah didn’t even flinch.  She simply brushed past them, as she did with the rest of the skin she uncovered.

“If it were anyone else, you know, I’d be insisting that I keep my clothes on.”

Farah smiled wryly.  “I know,” she whispered.  Here eyes were fixed on the bite mark that marred Eve’s alabaster skin.  She knew this was no love-bite, and so she pushed off of the bed.  Eve, now disrobed to her chest, was up in an instant.

“Was I less than satisfactory?” she teased, but there was a manic lilt to the words.  Farah shushed her and showed her the pot of menthol cream she had taken from the vanity--Eve’s own, now nearly depleted.

“May I?” Farah entreated.  Her long, brown fingers were dancing over the bedpost, slowly following the whorls of the wood.  

Eve’s voice was small. “If you would.”

Farah worked the cream into Eve’s sore muscles, into the fading bruises on her neck, shoulders, and hips.  Farah had seen Eve this way many nights before--bare, with no pretenses.  Eve didn’t pretend to be anything she wasn’t, not with Farah, who offered her nothing but herself, totally.  They had reached an understanding a few visits into Farah’s regular appointments, wherein Farah offered herself and her story, only for Eve to be herself in the body she was most comfortable in.  Sometimes, Eve would keep on her shifts and undergarments, preferring to keep herself hidden from view, where she felt safest.  Other nights, Farah asked to see her, all of her, and Eve happily agreed, throwing her underwear and garter away with the tape.  On these nights, Eve felt herself open up fully and enjoy herself, where most clients were only what she expected: work.

Tonight, Farah was taking her time with Eve’s undressing, and when she got to her silky underwear, Farah pulled back.  “Here too, Eve?”

A nod was all she needed, and she gently worked Eve’s underwear off, pulling the tight garter down with it.  Eve’s cock jumped when it hit the cold air, and Farah giggled before she could hold it in.  

“Someone’s interested.  Are you?” she asked, hand hovering over Eve’s thigh.

Eve considered briefly.  Farah was gentle and only cared to give what Eve could handle that night, as evidenced by her tenderness, and she was more than acquainted with Eve’s genitals--she’d experienced most sexual acts with Eve, and the ones they hadn’t indulged in were off-limits for both of them.  Eve couldn’t say that she didn’t want it then, Farah’s gentle touches both comforting and sensual.  

“Yes, actually.”  Eve breathed at seeing Farah so close to her penis. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft, doing slow pumps with the hand that had been massaging menthol cream into her bruises.  On contact, Eve gasped.

“Too much?” Farah cautioned.  Her hand stopped in its movements.

“N-no! It’s just, the menthol--it tingles.  Mm…” Eve let her head fall back, moaning up toward the ceiling.  

She couldn’t see Farah’s face, but she could almost imagine the look on her face while she dragged her hand lazily up and down Eve’s cock.  Every stroke was electric, and Eve’s legs tensed with the pleasure.  

“Won’t last long, will we, Eve?” Farah breathed over the skin of her thigh, taking her testicles into her mouth and laving her tongue over them.  Eve nearly bucked into her hand.  Farah noticed the aborted movement and slowed her hand even further.

“Fuck, no, keep going,” Eve whimpered.  Her eyes were screwed shut, and her hair was tumbling onto the pillow in waves.  Her thighs shook, and just then Farah rubbed her thumb against the slit.  Eve jolted and keened into her hand.

“Ooh, so gorgeous, look at you,” Farah cooed.  Her long, manicured fingers were coaxing beads of moisture from the tip and using them to lubricate her strokes.  Just then Eve’s thighs attempted to lock shut around her wrist, Eve’s long, slender throat working around a guttural moan.  “That’s it, honey, just like that.”

Eve rode through her orgasm, shaking with the force of it.  Normally her stamina was unparalleled, even with skilled lovers; she had to be able to keep up with even the most avaricious appetites.  Tonight, however, she found herself melting into the pillows of the bed while Farah went to the trouble of cleaning up.  She waved her hand as if to stop her, but Farah was already dipping a cloth into a bowl of warm water.  She worked the cloth over Eve’s chest and down lower, wiping up the mess with a kind smile.  

“You spoil me, you know.  How shall I ever receive another visitor?  I will have to turn them all away, sitting idly for the nights when you visit my bed.”  Farah laughed and slapped Eve’s dramatically waving hand, blushing.  

“There’s the Eve I so fondly remember.  Now,” she began, dropping to the mattress and lying on her side, beside Eve, “who so cruelly took her away from me in the first place?”

Eve looked down at Farah’s hands where they splayed on the comforter.  She was asking to unburden Eve, and she had no ulterior motives.  But the words wouldn’t spill from her lips, even loosened by alcohol and a fantastic orgasm.  

Eve rolled onto her side to face her bed-partner, and was shocked to find Farah’s lips against her damp forehead.

“Sometimes the best medicine is letting it all go.”


	12. Skimming Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farah and Eve have a hard conversation, and Shion wanders back to the Doxy, only to be bewitched.

Farah skimmed her hands up and down Eve’s side and sipped from her wine glass.  It was her time, after all, and Nezumi wouldn’t say no to a quiet evening if that was what she wished.  Sometimes they spent entire nights just laying next to each other in Eve’s bed, kissing as the mood struck them but otherwise just enjoying each other’s company, and Eve was perfectly fine with tonight being one of those nights.  

“Eve?” Farah queried, her nose against Eve’s collarbone. She was inhaling her scent, that gorgeous combination of vanilla and jasmine that followed her everywhere she went.  She wanted to hold on to the comforting aroma, keep it inside her for when she needed it most. 

“Hmm?” Nezumi hummed.  His silver eyes were pinned to the ceiling, where the candlelight shifted and snapped against the draped fabric there.  

“If you could go anywhere, do anything, what would you do?”

Nezumi’s head whipped around to look at her.  Her eyes were nearly black, and they were trained somberly on him.  She looked to be pleading.

“Other than here, with you?” he husked, giving her a saucy look.   _ Please, let’s not do this.  Let us take refuge in the silence. _

Farah shook her head and swirled the contents of her glass without looking away.  There was no getting out of this.  He couldn’t lie to her, nor did he need to.  She didn’t deserve the indignity of his falsehoods.

“I would be home, with my family.” he spoke to the ceiling; he couldn’t look into her earnest eyes, he would surely give too much away.  

Farah heard the mournful tone in his voice and immediately reached for his hand.  “Tell me about them.”

He hadn’t told many about his past, and most just assumed that he grew up as an orphan in the West Block.  It was a common story--an unwanted child from No.6 abandoned to the horrors of the West Block, assumed dead, but instead living by scrounging what it could from others.  He let them believe it, it was easier than this, the  _ remembering.  _

“My mother was a skilled huntress, one of the best in the village.  My father was a craftsman, he made tools and different garments from animal hide. I had a little sister, too, and a grandmother.”

Farah’s eyes widened.  “The Forest People,” she gasped.  This was exactly the reaction Nezumi was hoping to avoid; everyone knew about the atrocities committed against the Forest People, but they were told in their newspapers (and by official decree once the mass murder was found out) that all of them had perished.  That the Forest People had been eradicated, and for classified reasons. It was just another headline for the people of No.6, just another disaster that passed them by, because it didn’t affect them.  As for the people of the West Block, they were too focused on getting by and staying alive amidst their own poverty to offer any outrage.  Nezumi was the last of them, the secret survivor. 

He was quick to assuage her guilt. “Farah, no one knew that any of us survived. You never could have done anything, it was a secret government operation, carried out by a team of elite No.6 operatives.  Why waste time crying over spilt milk, as the phrase goes.” He waved a hand, and in the process began erecting a wall against Farah’s concern.  He didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially not hers.

“But, Eve…”  she began, but thought better of it.  Nezumi knew she could see the barrier he built in his eyes, the steel irises glinting and unaffected.  He felt acutely the roles between them: she was his client, and he wasn’t here to lay himself open to her.  She meant to flay him, right here, to rip open his innards to say  _ see, here, this is where your heart is.   _ He couldn’t allow this charade to continue any further.

“Eve, I understand if I’ve asked too much--”

“Oh, no!” the professional mask was back in place, and Eve was fully holding the reins again.  She covered herself with a stray robe. “I’m afraid I’m just feeling under the weather, darling, it’s a headache coming on.”  Eve hated to use this tactic, especially with Farah, but the physical wounds were too fresh to be opening emotional ones back up.  

Farah nodded in understanding, a sour look twisting her otherwise apologetic features.  She knew she had overstepped her bounds, here, but she also felt that maybe they were at a stage where these kinds of conversations would be welcome.   _ It seems I’ve disappointed her, nearly as much as her oaf of a husband,  _ Eve thought.  She covertly wrung her hands while Farah gathered her cloak and other trappings.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon, yes?” Farah asked.  The crease between her brows gave away her fear.  She wasn’t sure that Eve would accept her into her rooms again, safe from her life outside and the abuses she suffered in it.  

Eve’s eyes softened, and she padded over to Farah on bare feet.  Farah seemed surprised when Eve placed a kiss on her hair, then helped her secure her scarf in place over her dark brown waves.  

“Of course, you’re always welcome here, darling.”  Eve murmured, her lips against her forehead.  She knew she ruined the night for Farah, so she was trying to bow out in the most graceful way possible.  Farah slipped a handful of coins into her hand, a few extra considering the relatively short stay.  Eve made to hand the extras back, but Farah closed her hand.  

“I don’t have any need for it, you should keep it.  Maybe you can take some time for yourself tonight instead of working yourself so hard.”

Eve nodded and saw her client out, then took a seat on the balcony overlooking the ramshackle buildings of the West Block.  Nezumi, still done up in makeup, watched the stars twinkle, and before long he noticed a diminutive presence at his feet.  

“Well, hello there,” he greeted, offering a hand to the mouse so it could climb up his arm and settle on his shoulder.  The wiry whiskers brushed his cheek and made him smile gently before petting its soft fur with two of his fingers.  

“Anything interesting going on?”  he asked.  The mouse was curling up under the collar of his robe and chirping.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve had a pleasant evening.”  Nezumi noticed the mouse go still before racing down his leg and squeaking.  It ran about in a frenzied figure-eight, then sat and looked down the street.  Past the hole-in-the-wall restaurant and the dim streetlight, Nezumi saw a figure approaching the Doxy with hurried steps, and when he realized who the figure was, he hurried inside.

\---

“Hey, Mom, I’m going out to meet some friends, they’re having a birthday get-together downtown and I promised I’d stop in.”  Shion called from the sink, where he was scrubbing at his dinner plate.  Karan was still sitting at the table, newspaper in hand.  She looked up from the crossword she was studying.

“Oh, of course, honey! Should I leave the light on for you in the windows?”

A wave of guilt hit Shion before he steeled his resolve; he needed to try to see Eve again, even if she wouldn’t have him.  He needed to know that she didn’t want him the way he wanted her, and he needed to know definitively.  

“No, I’ll be alright.  Thanks for dinner!”  

Shion ran out the door, satchel under his arm, and mentally mapped his way to the Doxy.  

When he arrived at the front doors, he was met with a tittering laugh from inside.  There seemed to be a lively energy emanating from the Doxy, and before he could think too much on it, he strode inside.

The first thing he noticed was that the lights were brighter than any of the other nights he’d visited--instead of the stumps of melted-down candles on each table, he saw shimmering oil lamps.  A few spotlights were pointed at the rickety stage, where Grant was reciting bawdy poetry.  

“...and with a flick of her wrist, he was in bliss, the man with the velvet cap.  Imagine this: just the tip kiss’t, that little man’s velvet cap,” he sing-songed, stopping here and there for dramatic effect. The assembled patrons just ate it up; his jaunty step, his leering looks, and his audible rasp.  Shion could see the appeal--his hair was sleek and pulled back behind his ears, and his strong calves were accentuated by his tight lambskin pants.  He was wearing the usual loose-fitting shirt, barely laced, and his jeweled fingers waved and flicked with the poetry, making lewd gestures that the audience tittered and gasped at.

Shion’s heart was beating in his ears, watching Grant take command of the stage, and somewhere beyond the steady  _ thump-thump  _ of his pulse he heard Grant calling out past the audience.

“Well, hello there, darling.  I see the lamb has returned to the fold,” he purred, eyes focused on Shion.  He beckoned him forward, long fingers curling.  Shion swallowed.

“C’mon, I won’t bite, my little lamb,”  Grant moved lithely to sit, catlike, on the end of the stage.  Shion couldn’t look away from those golden eyes.  They caught him in thrall. This Grant was different than the cocky, self-assured man he met before. This Grant promised compassion and voluptuous touches, silk sheets and warmth. Shion didn’t notice the other patrons looking him up and down, some barely able to hide their grimaces.   _ Who’s this boy?  _ they wondered,  _ why him and not me? _

Shion allowed Grant’s freckled arms to close around his shoulders and settle on his shoulder blades, where Grant’s hands skimmed his spine.  Shion shivered--he couldn’t help the way his body responded to the intimate touches.  Grant studied his face, then finally smiled, and  Shion felt the rest of the room melt away.  

“You’ve come back to me, haven’t you, my sweet?” Grant whispered.  His lips were soft and full, and he exuded a simple masculine grace, despite his elegant features.  Shion felt himself nod. He wanted so much to be led by this man to a soft bed, where he could finally rid himself of the tense energy zinging in his chest.

“What a good boy,” Grant’s nose bumped against Shion’s, the smallest touch.  “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private, I want to get to know you better.”

When Grant pulled Shion behind him, he waved to the few patrons in front of the stage, who had dispersed when they figured out where the evening was headed; Grant wasn’t going to lead them to his bed, so they focused on more realistic pleasures, like getting drunk on brandywine.

Shion’s feet didn’t feel like they were touching the ground, and he was being led to a shadowy alcove with a velvet lounge and a single, sputtering candle. Grant gestured to the lounge, and Shion sat.  He felt Grant straddle his lap and begin placing kisses on his throat.  

“You smell sweet,” Grant husked, and he traced Shion’s scar with his fingers. “I bet you’re sweet all over.”

Shion couldn’t keep his hands in one place; they glided up Grant’s hips, gripped his biceps, and mapped the contours of his back. He wanted to be rid of the ache in his groin, as well as the pulsing between his thighs, and he knew the man before him could give him that reprieve.  Grant laughed gently and watched Shion explore. 

“Please, let me taste you.” Grant was leaning in and eyeing Shion’s mouth.  He waited for some kind of resistance, and when none came, he melded their lips.  

As if an ice-cold wind blew through him, Shion stilled.  Grant felt the body beneath him go rigid.  

“What is it?” he asked, leaning back on his haunches. His eyes were alert, searching Shion’s.  The candle cast dancing warmth on the striped wallpaper.

“I--I can’t, not now.” Shion looked down at his hands, and he felt himself come back in control of his body.  His voice lowered; he didn’t want him to hear.  

“Not with you.”


	13. Creaking Floorboards

Nezumi didn’t have the time to change back into a more modest outfit, one that would cover his bruises and scars--Shion was here, and he was more than likely looking for Eve.  He slid to a halt in front of his vanity, combing through his hair with a mother-of-pearl pick.  If Eve couldn’t be put together, she could at the very least look the part of the carefree, sexually licentious maiden.  She looked stunning in her mostly open silk robe, all Eve needed was her garter--where had Farah thrown it? Nezumi hurried about looking for the lacy piece of elastic, finally found underneath the duvet.  He slipped it up his leg and bound his member snugly. With one last look in the vanity mirror, Eve was ready.

_ What could he want?  _ Nezumi thought.  The last time they’d seen each other, they’d ended on bad terms.  Nezumi’s hands fidgeted at his sides; if he were wearing his usual cargo pants and jacket, he could flick a knife out of his pocket and toy with it, but Eve had far fewer lethal accoutrements.  Her job was to sell her body, and too many adornments made it hard to work. As it was, she was wearing a simple pair of sandals.  They slapped the ground with every hurried step. 

Nezumi skidded to a halt once out of the hallway.  

He knew what he was seeing, in the back of his mind, but he didn’t believe it.  He just couldn’t.

There was Grant, leaning over a smaller figure on the lounge in the alcove, the lounge he’d vacated earlier to be with Farah.  Just past Grant’s curtain of chestnut hair, Nezumi saw a shock of white.  

The smaller figure had their hands all over Grant, sliding and groping wherever they could reach.  It would have been commonplace--Grant was a regular exhibitionist, and he loved pushing clients as far as they would go, out in the open--if not for the person he was ravishing. 

“Shion,” Nezumi breathed.  He watched them connect at their mouths, with Shion doing nothing to stop Grant’s advance forward.   _ No more of this,  _ Nezumi thought, and turned his back, lest either of them see him standing there.

He hurriedly made his way to the back door of the Doxy, not even stopping to grab his things or even change. Realizing this, he stopped at the thick, wooden door and banged his fist against it.  His forehead hit the door with a  _ thunk. _

_ Relax,  _ he coached himself.   _ What are you so caught up about? This is a brothel, you idiot, and he’s perfectly entitled to any whore he chooses. You don’t own him. _

Yes, but why did his heart feel like it was straining to get out of his chest?

Nezumi wanted to punch, to hit, to scratch, anything to distract him from the feeling of  _ betrayal  _ churning in his belly.  But this wasn’t the place.  He gathered his robe around himself and strode with purpose to the kitchen.

Just inside, Billy was stationed at the scarred, wooden countertop. He had an onion peeled between his hands, and he was inspecting it for bruised spots.  Nezumi did his best to wander in quietly, but Billy set the onion down immediately and patted a spot next to him.  He wouldn’t ask any questions tonight; he simply handed Nezumi a knife, set the warped metal pot before him and went back to peeling onions.

\---

“Well, my little lamb, I won’t push you.  I won’t have anything less than a completely willing participant.” 

Grant slid off Shion’s lap and nestled into the couch, further into the alcove.  Shion knew he was absolutely beet red, and the smug look on Grant’s face wasn’t helping him refute that fact.  

“So, care to tell me why the sudden change of heart?” Grant had his chin in his hands, and he pointedly looked at the tent in Shion’s pants.  Shion did his best to cover it, for propriety’s sake. 

Before Shion could open his mouth to respond, Grant narrowed his eyes at him.

“And don’t give me some half-assed lie about how you’re ‘saving yourself for someone special’ or something, because I’ve seen how you look at Eve.” Grant’s amber eyes made a sweep of the room, including Kitty behind the bar and Gill, just now sauntering into the room to wrap herself around a patron.  “We all have.”

The words came out of Shion’s mouth unbidden and he jumped to the edge of the lounge.  “Do you know where she is now?”

Grant gave him a pitying look--it looked wrong on his keen, expressive face.  Shion bristled at it.

“Oh, little lamb, last I knew she was serving one of her regular clients,” he cooed, and he reached a hand out to Shion, presumably to comfort him.  “She’ll probably be held up for the rest of the evening, at least.”

Shion’s breath left him in a harsh  _ whoosh. _

“Here’s my offer, darling,” Grant began, and he fussed with the plaits of his hair.  He ignored the crestfallen look on Shion’s face.  “If you want to wait up for her, that’s fine.  But at least let me keep you company.” Grant’s mouth curved into an unnaturally alluring frown.  “I would hate to see you suffer so, all alone.”

“But, I don’t have the money right now to pay the both of y--”

Grant chuckled.  “I said I wouldn’t touch you, didn’t I?” He lifted himself from the couch built against the wall and righted his shirt, which had gotten  rumpled by Shion’s hands.  He laid a hand on Shion’s chair, leaning over him.

“As much as it pains me, I’ll keep my hands to myself.  Let me get us some drinks, then we can chat, as much as your little heart desires. No charge.” 

With one last lingering look, Grant strutted over to the bar, making nary a sound with his bare feet on the wooden floor.  Shion looked back and saw him talking with Kitty, who looked to be chastising him while pouring their drinks.  He figured they would be talking for a bit, so he curled into the lounge and faced the inside of the alcove.

_ Why does my chest hurt like this? I feel like I’ve done something wrong…  _ Shion thought.  He tucked his head into his chest.   _ And I feel terrible. _

He couldn’t put a word to the feeling, but as soon as Grant had told him Eve was with another client, it had been like a sucker punch. 

_ Am I… Jealous? _

Shion sat up ramrod straight. 

_ Oh God, I  _ am _ jealous. _

Grant’s soft steps led into the alcove, and soon Shion could see his strong calves at his eye-level, then a glass mug placed on the table before him.

“I hope you don’t mind, I just picked two of what I liked.”

Shion hummed noncommittally and sat up on his elbow to grasp the mug in his hand.  The liquid was amber and cloudy, but the mug was surprisingly warm.  Shion gave it a sniff and looked at Grant quizzically.

“It’s hot spiced rum, with a bit of tea and honey splashed in.”  Grant took a hearty sip and smiled.  “It’s best with a little cinnamon, but I’m afraid we’re fresh out.”

Shion let the mug touch his lips and swallowed a bit; the liquid was warm and went down easily for it.  Much better than the drinks he’d had in the past.  Grant grinned.

“I told you, honey,” he chuckled in that warm growl.  “It’s also one hell of a throat cure, so keep that in mind next time you, you know--” Grant made a gesture with his mouth and his hand that Shion couldn’t mistake, then winked.

Immediately, Shion stammered out “Oh, no--I’m, I’ve never--”

Grant raised his hands in a placating gesture.  “I’m sure, pet.  Just be careful when you do, and don’t take more than you can handle on the first try.  Good way to get sick all over him  _ and _ his trousers, that.”

Shion took another swallow to mask his embarrassment.  “I actually didn’t, erm, I’ve never been with another man befo--”

Grant’s mug hit the table, thankfully without any of his drink sloshing over the side in the process. 

“Oh, sweetpea…” Grant’s voice was back to that soft, almost pitying tone.  “I’m your first?”

At Shion’s nod, Grant puffed out his chest.  “You know, I’m hardly surprised, there are very few that don’t fall for my charms.” Then he settled his elbows on his knees, leaning toward Shion with his head cocked to the side.  “So you’ve never kissed another man?  Never had amorous thoughts? Not even an inkling?”

Shion bit his lip.  “I’m afraid not.  It’s just… I never even had sex on my radar, before, and as soon as I met Eve, I just…”

“Can’t get her out of your head, huh?” Grant swirled the drink in his mug by gently rocking the mug side-to-side.  “So why did you come to me? Didn’t you come to see her?”

“Of course I did, I…” Shion gave Grant a wearied look.  “Something about you, I guess?  Coupled with how sexually frustrated I’ve been lately, it must have just overwhelmed me.”

Grant’s mouth was slightly agape.  “You mean to tell me that… Eve hasn’t bedded you yet?”

Suddenly the drink in his hands was too full, so Shion took a long swig then wiped his mouth.  

“She, well… We almost did, but I didn’t know what I wanted, and before I could ask her what I should do, she got upset and told me to leave.  I didn’t want to make her any more angry with me, so I left, and I’ve been trying to give her some space since then but I just had to come here, I needed to apologize for whatever it was I’d done.”  Shion clenched his fist on the table.  

“And now I’ve gone and started…”  Shion wave a hand between the two of them.  “...  _ this,  _ and now I just feel like I shouldn’t even bother her.  If I’m not sure which gender of person I’m even  _ attracted to,  _ how am I supposed to ask her to forgive me?”

Grant’s stifled snort surprised Shion.  He had a hand held to his mouth and he was trying not to giggle.  

“You know, honey, you don’t have to choose just one.”  Grant waved his hand in an arc over his head.  “There are allllll kinds of people out there, and whoever catches your fancy just  _ does.   _ Don’t bother questioning it, sweetie, time is too short.”  Grant rose and strode over to Shion, pulling him up from the lounge and urging him to put the mug to his lips.

“Drink it down, good boy.”  he purred, and he gave Shion a slap on the back when he let the liquid slide down his throat.  “Now, here’s what I’ll do for you.  I’m going to stop by Eve’s room, maybe ask for a pot of rouge or something, break the mood for the client, see if I can get her to leave a little early to come and see you.  I can be fairly persuasive, you know.”

Shion felt the alcohol’s heat seep into his chest, slowly infusing him.  “B-but… Why help me?”

Grant smiled down at him.  

“Oh, honey.  We all need someone special around here, someone who can make us feel whole and real. It’s a difficult profession, and it wears you down.”  He took Shion’s mug, brushing his fingers over his wrist. 

“I won’t let Eve miss out on someone like you.”


End file.
